


The Midnight Oil

by najio



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Carols, Gen, Lovecraftian Horrors, Series of Two-shots, Starring:, and an idyllic home in which absolutely nothing is wrong, fairy tale references, it was just a problem child, it's not even that long, not as separate as they initially appear, one for each pair of characters, six of them actually, some progressive rock, that children's book that makes parents cry in front of their kids, this took... such an absurdly long time to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/najio/pseuds/najio
Summary: Ruby rescues a princess from a tower,Blake plants a tree,Weiss steals a crown,An abandoned house has a dark secret,A trial is held in the shadow of a wall,and Yang finds an old photograph.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna & Ruby Rose, Blake Belladonna & Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna & Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose & Weiss Schnee, Ruby Rose & Yang Xiao Long, Weiss Schnee & Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. 1a — A Daring Rescue

Never let it be said that Ruby Rose was a quitter. She'd come this far—which was more difficult than she'd expected, adults asked a _lot_ of questions when fifteen-year-olds tried to rent rooms at inns by themselves—all to find adventure, so that was what she was going to do. Come danger, come heartbreak, come what will!

With that said... finding adventure was _hard._

After growing up on stories about the big wide world and how dangerous it was, she was seriously disappointed. When she'd tried to explain her mission to a nice farmer a few days ago and offered to slay a dragon for him, he'd asked if the fox that kept getting into his chicken coop counted. She'd said no, but helped him anyway because that's just what heroes _did._ The helping, not the fox-hunting.

Frustrated, she'd started asking people if they knew anyone who needed help instead. That was how she'd gotten her newest lead. Apparently, in a tower up on this hill lived a warlock who was using his powers for evil. The man she'd talked to seemed to think so, anyway—he kept waving his arms and talking about repression and the violence inherent in the system. That sounded bad, so Ruby had offered to help.

Now that she was almost at the top of the hill, she was starting to wonder if she was maybe a little out of her depth. Dragons were one thing, they were just big stinky lizards, but she didn't know how to go about fighting a warlock.

Ruby scolded herself—she'd been complaining about the lack of adventure for weeks. Well, here it was, she just had to go out and experience it. No backing down, and no giving up! Jaw set, she marched on.

It wasn't long before she found the tower. And, well... it wasn't what she'd expected. She'd assumed it would be tall, impressive, and maybe have some mystic runes carved on the walls. The real thing wasn't that intimidating. More of a cottage, really. It slumped apologetically between a pair of massive oaks. Vines hung in lazy curtains from its thatched roof, sagging with the weight of bunches and bunches of purple grapes.

Ruby knocked twice on the worn wooden door, unsheathed the longsword on her back, and waited. She started wondering if there was anyone home—it _did_ look pretty overgrown.

The door banged open, and a startled Ruby almost fell over. A woman stood in the doorway, and from the look on her face she was _not_ happy about being disturbed. Her cheeks and nose were flushed a deep red, and wild blue eyes peered out from behind a curtain of disheveled white hair.

"Who are you?"

"Um, I'm Ruby."

The warlock flicked her hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. Why are you _here?"_

"Oh. Well, this farmer told me there was an evil warlock, and I'm trying to find work as an adventurer, so..." Ruby trailed off, wishing there had been a dragon up here instead—a nice, violent monster that wouldn't have _talked_ to her before they fought.

"Really? You're going to fight _him?"_

"Uh..." Ruby had the feeling she was missing something important. "Who?"

The woman stared at her like she was an idiot. Ruby shrank into her cloak, her face hot with embarrassment. "So you're... um, not the warlock."

"Obviously."

"Oh. Oops."

A deeply uncomfortable silence descended, until Ruby managed to stammer, "Y-you don't happen to know which way his tower is, do you?" The woman's eye twitched.

"I suppose you'll have to do. Come in."

The inside of the cottage was quite homey, though there was a sour smell in the air that reminded Ruby of her uncle. The strange woman walked a few paces into the only room before spinning around and looking her over critically.

"You say you're an adventurer."

"Yep!"

"You don't look the part."

"Well, I'm kinda just starting..." Ruby toyed self-consciously with the hilt of her sword. It was a hand-me-down from her uncle. She liked to think of it as well-loved, but shabby was a somewhat more accurate description. Her clothes were probably dusty from the climb up, too.

"Your current objective is impossible."

"Huh?"

"Don't bother fighting the warlock. You won't win."

"I can fight!" Ruby insisted. "Just because I'm not super famous or anything—"

"You misunderstand. He isn't alone, he has connections and there's a small army in there with him. Fighting him is useless."

"But I—"

"What you _can_ do," she continued, very pointedly, "is get in _covertly_ and help me retrieve something from him."

"Uh, what? Did you leave a Frisbee on his roof or something?" The woman glared at her, and she blushed and hid in her hood. "So... he took something from you?"

"My daughter."

"He stole your _kid?"_

The woman's expression soured, and she snapped, "Will you help me, or not?"

In her mind's eye, a small child reached out from behind iron bars. Ruby's heart clenched, and she stood up as straight as she could. "Yeah!"

* * *

The strange lady couldn't get her out of the cottage fast enough. She stopped just long enough to thrust a knapsack full of supplies into her hands and give her some odd instructions on how to use them. Then she'd pushed her right out the door.

Outside, Ruby felt like she was finally getting her bearings. This made sense: she had her adventuring gear, she had her quest—there was even a maiden to save! She strode through the wilderness with a hand on her sword and a spring in her step.

Then she saw the tower.

It was built from perfectly cut blocks of white marble, and it jutted out from the treetops like a needle. There wasn't even a smudge of dirt to break the illusion of a column of pristine, unbroken snow rising into the sky. A window near the top glared sternly over its surroundings. This was not a building that had to command respect. It just had it, and there wasn't a thing the insects down below could do about it.

One insect in particular craned her neck to look at the lone window, trying not to be intimidated. It wasn't working, but Ruby gathered her courage and walked up to the tower's base. She rummaged in her knapsack. The magical items inside had seemed a lot more fearsome and powerful a minute ago.

Digging out a small packet of seeds, she opened it with her teeth and scattered its contents on the ground. A slim band of ivy poked through the grass and scaled the tower with a practiced ease Ruby wasn't too keen on trying to replicate.

After almost falling twice and scraping her hands raw, she reached the windowsill and pulled herself up until she was sitting half-in, half-out of the tower. She sat there for a moment, staring. There probably hadn't been enough space in the tower for a hallway that long. There definitely hadn't been space for rooms on either side of it. This was also the top floor of the building, where a set of _ascending stairs_ really had no business being.

Well, there _was_ supposed to be a warlock in here somewhere. Ruby pulled her other leg inside and landed in a crouch on the tiled floor. She produced a ball of string from the pack, tied one end to the ivy, and dropped the rest. It rolled down the hallway and turned right around a corner. She hurried to keep up, making sure to draw her sword in case of guards—which turned out to be a good idea.

After two lefts and a right, the ball of string led her through a set of wooden double doors and onto a wide-open stage ringed with chairs. The ceiling was mostly taken up by a massive skylight that was bigger around than the exterior of the tower by at least an order of magnitude. And, in the light of the shattered moon—hadn't it been mid-afternoon when she climbed in?—there stood a cluster of humanoid figures in gleaming white armor.

Ruby skidded to a stop, glancing between the sentries. It was obvious the moment she looked at them that they weren't human. The shapes of their helmets were all wrong, too tall and narrow, and at their joints she could see clusters of wires.

In eerie unison, all six raised their arms. Ruby blinked at them, wondering if they were trying to salute her, or...

A half-dozen shots rang out, and Ruby ducked behind a set of seats towards the outskirts of the room. Once she was sure all her limbs were still attached and functioning, she peered through a smoking hole in the back of one chair. The robots were still staring at her.

"Uh, hi!" she called out, then ducked behind the seats again. When she risked another look, there was a peephole for each eye.

"Can't we—eep!—talk about this?"

_Bring a sword, I said. All the best adventurers have swords!_

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ruby vaulted over the backs of the chairs, bounced into a somersault, then rolled to her feet and dashed towards the enemy. Something whizzed past her ear, and she decided she wanted a suit of armor, or maybe a shield.

Or a better weapon. For some reason, the sword just seemed _wrong._

Once she reached the sentries, Ruby felt a lot more confident. Partly because she was getting used to the whole guns-for-arms thing, but mostly because now she could get to work removing them and the robots could finally stop shooting at her.

With a single stroke—well, four and a half, but no one was there to count—she hacked off a guard's helmeted head. It went down with a metallic groan.

Grinning, Ruby flipped over the shoulders of a second robot. The others shot it several times in the head and torso, and it collapsed in a heap. With two down and four to go, she felt like showing off.

In one smooth motion she swept one of the guards legs out from under it, skewering it with her sword as it fell. Without bothering to disengage, she heaved it off the ground and tossed it, sword and all, at the nearest sentry, laughing as they crashed into one another and toppled over in a mass of flailing limbs.

Now weaponless, she ducked under the arms of another robot and gave it a shove. It tripped over one of the broken ones. She kicked its helmet and it went still, twitching and sparking.

The last guard had gotten back up and was staring at her, holding out its gun-arm. She liked to think it was having regrets.

"Those are awesome!" She pointed at its weapon. The robot pointed back.

Ruby ducked out of the line of fire, then picked up the head of the first robot and lobbed it at the last. The helmet bounced off its arm, ruining its aim and sending it reeling. She charged forward to finish the job. It stepped forward to intercept her. She bounced painfully off its chest, grabbed it by the faceplate, and brought it down with her.

Its body hit the ground with a clang, and she cracked her head on its arm. They scuffled for a moment, before she eventually managed to dent its helmet and it finally stopped moving.

Ruby let out a huff. "Aw," she said miserably. "That was really cool 'till the end..."

Ah, well. She could think of it as practice for when she actually saved the princess—or whatever you called the daughter of a random woman in a forest. Probably 'miss,' or something.

After a quick stop to retrieve her sword—which slid free with a noise like nails on a chalkboard—Ruby trotted off to find the ball of thread. She did a double-take as she left the same way she'd come in and realized that this hallway wasn't familiar at all.

"But..." she protested weakly. The magic string was nowhere to be found.

With a sigh, she reached into her knapsack and retrieved an ornate silver mirror. By some miracle—or the fact that it was a magic item that would probably outlive Ruby by several centuries—it had survived the whole ordeal.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, show me the fairest of them all."

Nothing happened.

"Oh, _come on!"_ she groaned. "The thread worked!"

Something _huffed._ Ruby glanced around, then looked back at the mirror. Her eyes narrowed.

"I know you can hear me."

The mirror opened one eye, and Ruby's reflection bent and distorted around it.

"Does it _look_ like I'm hanging on a wall to you?" it asked, in a voice that reminded her of windchimes.

Ruby flushed. "You know what I meant!"

"Say it _right,_ then."

"Fine! Mirror, mirror, in my hand, who's the fairest of them all?"

The other eye opened, and the magic mirror fixed her with a betrayed stare.

"You didn't _rhyme,"_ it said, scandalized.

"Oh, for the love of— _fine!_ Mirror, mirror, in my hand, who's the fairest... um, in all the land?"

"Good enough, I suppose." Both eyes disappeared, and for a moment Ruby saw only her own reflection. It blurred away.

When the mirror came back into focus, Ruby was met with the image of none other than her old teacher, Professor Port. He was reclining on a couch with several cushions propping him upright. There was a glass of something amber-colored in his hand, and... and...

He was _not_ wearing a shirt.

"Gah, _why?!"_ She hurled the mirror away from herself and screwed up her face in a rictus of disgust and embarrassment.

"Young Miss Rose, what is the mat—" Port cried, but was interrupted when the mirror hit the floor. Unfortunately, it did not shatter.

"Did you just _throw me?!"_ the mirror shouted indignantly, from where it lay face-down on the ground.

"I did not need to see that! I could've gone my _entire life_ without seeing that and now I can't _unsee_ it, and it's all your fault!"

"You asked to speak to the fairest of them all, did you not? And in all the land, I have never seen nor heard tell of a more magnificent specimen of the human form!"

"Ew! What is wrong with you?!"

"That finest and most firm of physiques!"

"Please, stop!"

"Positively brimming with vitality, vigor, and voluptuous manliness!"

"No~!"

"And that most magnificent mustache, the likes of which I have never—"

 _"Just show me the girl who lives in this tower!"_ Ruby shouted, at the top of her lungs.

The mirror sighed longingly. "As you wish. I suppose there's no accounting for taste." Ruby shuddered. Carefully, as if she was sneaking up on a sleeping dragon, she peeled the ancient artifact off the floor. Its surface was, thankfully, blank.

"You need to say the words," it pointed out.

"What, again?"

"It's tradition."

"Ugh. Mirror mirror, in my hand, I want to talk to the girl in this tower... and?" The mirror was distinctly unimpressed, but her reflection dissolved into a blur of color and soon she was looking into a massive room at a bed that could probably have fit her entire extended family.

"Uh, hello?" She leaned in to see better. Her nose bumped against the mirror, and it made an annoyed grunting noise. Something moved near the edge of her field of view, and a pair of very intimidating blue eyes stared back at her. Ruby gulped audibly.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in my mirror?!" the girl demanded, folding her arms over her chest. She was definitely _not_ a baby. She was probably older than Ruby, actually.

"Um..." Without really meaning to, Ruby found herself staring—not at the girl _per se,_ more at the faint pink line that ran across her left eye. _Another half-inch and we'd be in a totally different genre right about now._

"Excuse me?"

"Oh! I'm Ruby!"

 _"And?_ What are you _doing_ here?!"

Ruby was starting to notice a family resemblance. That, or she needed to introduce herself as 'Ruby Rose, adventurer extraordinaire' from now on. Short, sweet, rolls right off the tongue—and the scary girl had totally asked her a question, hadn't she?

"I'm here to rescue you!" she announced proudly.

Her damsel-in-very-little-apparent-distress raised an eyebrow. Ruby tried not to quail.

"How exactly do you plan on doing _that?"_

"Well, I already beat up some robot guards, so I think I'm off to a pretty good start!" Ruby paused, frowning. "I mean, I just need directions because I _may_ have sorta-kinda lost the magic thread that was supposed to lead me to your room... it's your house, right?"

"Technically," the girl allowed. "But I have to ask you to leave."

"What? But I'm on a quest!"

"You're _breaking_ and _entering."_

"Your mom told me to!" That hadn't been Ruby's best comeback ever, but she thought the exaggerated eye roll was a little much.

"My _mother_ has no right to complain," the not-princess said, making a show of inspecting her nails.

"Um, what?"

"Ugh, that's not the point."

"What _is_ the point, then?" Ruby demanded. "Do you want to leave, or not?"

That caught the girl off-guard, if the look on her face was any indication. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, before she said, "Well, yes..."

"So, how do I get to your room?"

"That's not the point—"

"Yes, it is. Left or right?" Ruby brandished the mirror like a banner, showing off the wide hallway just outside of the opera house.

"Three lefts, two rights, and down a flight of stairs."

Ruby blinked.

"I spend a lot of time in there, okay?" the girl snapped, a bit defensively.

"Well... cool! Be right there?"

The mirror's image began to dim, before a thought occured to her.

"Wait!" she cried, grabbing the magic item and pressing her nose against the glass. The mirror shuddered.

"What _now?"_

"I forgot to ask what your name was!"

The girl's scarred eye twitched. "It's Weiss. Now, hurry up before the Paladin finds you."

The connection went dead.

"Wait, before the _what_ finds me?"

"The _Paladin,"_ the mirror answered helpfully. "If you run into it, try not to _drop_ me again. I'd hate to get blood on my frame."

"Ugh," Ruby groaned, and stuffed the magic item back into her bag. It made a muffled, indignant noise, then went silent.

"Stupid smart-alec mirrors..." she muttered, unsheathing her sword and stomping down the hallway.

"Okay, two lefts and three rights. Or... Three rights and two lefts?" Ruby spun in a small circle, heart sinking.

"Three lefts, two rights, and down the stairs. _In_ _grate."_

"Thank you," Ruby mumbled, face burning.

* * *

Ruby stopped at the bottom of the staircase. She couldn't have said _why,_ exactly. Maybe she heard something, or maybe it was adventurer's intuition that made the hairs prickle at the back of her neck.

Regardless, the second she reached the final landing of the stairwell she stopped, crouched down, and peered around the corner. And it was a good thing she did, because the princess—or _whatever,_ she acted kind of snooty and in Ruby's humble opinion that was enough to qualify—was not unguarded.

Standing motionless in front of a plain wooden door was a gigantic suit of shining white armor. In his right hand, he held a broadsword that was taller than Ruby. And she drank _milk!_

Even as she leaned forward to get a better look, his full-face helmet turned toward her in complete and utter silence. He didn't speak. The only sound as he marched toward her was the clanging of his armored feet on the floor. Ruby scrambled to draw her sword. The lesser blade—and it _was_ a lesser blade, as much as she loved it—slid free with a metallic rasp. The knight cocked his head, and part of her brain (the part that wasn't busy figuring out how to beat someone in full plate that weighed at least ten of her) noticed it made him look a bit like Zwei.

"Nice... Paladin?"

His sword cleaved the air above her head with a low hiss. Ruby rolled under it. When the blade hit the wall behind her, it bit deep into the stone.

"Hah!" Ruby cheered, and lunged. Her sword skated off his breastplate without leaving a scratch, and he tugged his own weapon free easily.

"What's going on out there?" demanded a voice from behind the door.

"Kinda busy!" Ruby wailed, diving desperately to the side.

"Stop _moving!"_ whined the mirror from inside her pack. "I'm getting nauseous!"

The knight swung again, and Ruby tucked into a somersault. She managed to go between his legs, and she didn't feel even a little bad about slashing upward as she did so.

There was a whisper of air behind her. Ruby pitched herself forward and landed painfully on her elbows. The weight on her back slid sideways with a clatter and a series of thumps. When she sprang to her feet again, she felt far lighter—the pack had been cut right off her back.

"You _dropped_ me!" the mirror squealed. "Again!"

"Shut up and let me think!" Leaning to the left, she narrowly avoided another strike from the knight. She was starting to pick up a pattern, sort of. He didn't feint, there was too much force behind his strikes for that, but he wasn't slow like she'd first thought. And he was _ridiculously_ strong.

"Open the door!" Weiss called out.

"I'm try—" The knight's sword passed within inches of her face, slicing off a few strands of hair.

 _If I were Yang,_ she thought grumpily, _That would mean I win._

Since she wasn't her sister, Ruby couldn't do much to the knight except backpedal as quickly as she could without tripping over her own feet. This wasn't working, she hadn't even scratched him and she was getting tired. Casting about desperately for an idea, her eyes locked on the door behind him.

The knight charged. Tensing, Ruby waited until she could see the sword cutting sideways towards her face before she leaped. Her foot came down on the flat of the blade, and she pushed off as hard as she could. The weapon dipped, though not by much—how strong _was_ this guy?!—and she ended up wildly off-balance and on a collision course with his helmet.

At the last minute she reached out, grabbed one of his shoulder pauldrons, and flipped herself over his head. She landed behind him and kicked him solidly in the back, using his armor as a springboard to lunge for the door. Her sword cut through the lock in one stroke.

"Little help!" she shouted, as her own momentum bounced her painfully off the wall.

The door slammed open with a loud _crack,_ and Weiss rushed out brandishing a thin rapier. She might have paled, though it was hard to tell. "What the—what did I tell you about not letting the Paladin find you?!"

"I didn't! He was guarding your room!"

Weiss edged backward until she and Ruby were shoulder to shoulder. "Oh. Well... what are you waiting for, then?"

Ruby glanced between her and the Paladin. "What am I waiting for?" she asked, trying and failing to chuckle casually. "What are _you_ waiting for?"

"You're the adventurer."

"But you know this thing's weaknesses, don't you?"

"Of course I do. It doesn't _have_ any!"

"Well... It's your house!"

"That doesn't even—"

Both of them were forced to dodge when the Paladin slashed at their throats. Ruby went left and ducked under the blade. Weiss flipped backwards instead, landing poised on both feet and brandishing her rapier.

"Go for the joints," Ruby suggested—her thinner sword had a better shot at slipping between the plates of armor.

"There's no point."

"What?"

"The armor—" Weiss broke off mid-sentence to duck another wild swing. "There's no one inside."

_"What?!"_

Ruby turned to stare at Weiss. Her attention only wavered for an instant, but when she looked back around the Paladin's sword was on a collision course with her face. She did the only thing she could think of—she parried.

The Paladin's sword slammed into her own with the force of a charging rhinoceros, and the hilt flew out of her stinging palm. It bought her enough time to dash under his arm and out of range, but her blade was dented so badly it was practically in two pieces.

Now unarmed, her eyes flicked between the towering steel automaton bearing down on her, and the tiny girl with the even tinier sword that was now their only offensive option.

Instead of going after Weiss, now the only threat (in theory, her rapier probably wouldn't hurt him much), the Paladin strode towards where Ruby stood. She backed away, glanced over her shoulder, and grinned.

"Hey, tin can!" she shouted, and dashed down the corridor. The Paladin followed.

"What are you _doing?"_ Weiss called out.

"Improvising!" Ruby skidded to a halt. The corridor came to a dead end at a small lookout spot, where a pair of padded benches had been laid out before a floor-to-ceiling window. Not only that, but the hallway narrowed dramatically as it ended.

When Ruby heard the sound of the Paladin's sword coming toward her, she spun around and laughed. It caught on the stone ceiling with a nasty screech. He tugged it back down and kept swinging.

Ruby dodged out of the way, and then Weiss was there, too. It didn't matter much—numbers weren't super useful when neither of you could hurt the other guy—but it made her feel more confident.

"This better not be your whole plan," Weiss snapped, darting in to slash at the knight's breastplate. He didn't seem to notice.

Suddenly deciding that showing was way more fun than telling (and proving to anyone who cared that she was definitely related to her sister), Ruby put a hand to her mouth and whistled.

The Paladin charged toward her, and for the second time in one fight she ducked and slid between his legs. This time she didn't try to swing at his unmentionables. Instead, she stood up and _pushed._

Right away, she realized something was wrong. Namely, he was _heavy._ He staggered and lurched, but she couldn't tip him over on her own.

Thankfully, Weiss realized what she was trying to do in time to help. The Paladin tipped slowly, like a feather had just fallen on a perfect balance. Then he pitched forward and smashed through the floor-to-ceiling window.

He didn't make a sound as he fell. When he hit the _ground,_ though... it was sort of like someone had dropped a cupboard full of pots. Then, silence.

"That..." Ruby panted. "Was... _Awesome!"_

She tried to leap into the air and fistpump. Instead she ended up slumped on the ground, wheezing. There had been too many flips in that fight. Way, _way_ too many.

"We should go," Weiss decided.

"But I'm _tired!"_

"I don't think that killed it."

"Okay, let's go!" Ruby popped to her feet and marched down the hallway, then stopped when she realized Weiss wasn't following.

"I wanted to say..." She picked up her sword and faced the wall. "...Thank you."

This time, Ruby did fistpump.


	2. 1b — Drinking in the Garden

"You're going the wrong way," Weiss pointed out, for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes.

"It's a maze! I don't think there even _is_ a right way!"

"Of course there is! It's the way that leads away from the study, not towards it! You said you came in through a window didn't you?"

"How am I supposed to remember where it is when the hallways keep changing? I swear, we _should_ be going in circles! We haven't turned left in like ten intersections!"

"The rooms are numbered. Higher numbers mean we're higher up in the tower. Lower numbers mean we're going the _wrong way."_ She'd been over this before—twice.

"I _know!"_ Ruby groaned. "But I can't _tell_ until I already made the turn, and by then it's way too late!"

"How did you even manage to find the opera hall, if you don't have any sense of direction?"

"I had a magic ball of yarn."

Weiss gaped at her. "Then _use it!"_

"I can't!"

"Why not?!"

Her face went red. "I may have kinda... um... lost it."

Silently praying for patience, Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose and gritted out, "Of _course_ you did."

"Hey! I was busy fighting _your_ guards so I could save you from this warlock guy!"

"They are not _my_ guards."

"Whatever," Ruby grumbled. "It's not like you know where we're going any more than I do."

"Of course I do!" Weiss turned to look around. This corridor was vaguely familiar—she could remember sprinting along it as a child, giggling and flying past all the artwork. She would have wanted to go _toward_ the study then... but would she have turned left, or right?

Frowning, Weiss gestured at the left fork. "It's... that way." She thought she could remember taking the right one. Unless...

"Or is it this way..." She thought she might have gone the other way down that hall when she was young... or perhaps she'd invented the memory altogether. Sometimes she wondered about that.

"If you don't _know,"_ Ruby fumed, "then stop backseat adventuring!"

_"Pardon?"_

"This is my job, okay? Just let me try and figure it out!"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Fine. But we have to stop going down."

Ruby let out a wordless snarl of frustration. "I haven't even seen a staircase since the Paladin! How are we going down?!"

"Magic." Weiss fanned out her hands as if to say, _ta da!_ Her sister always used to do that when she asked the same question. It had been unbearably annoying.

"Ugh!" Ruby started grumbling darkly under her breath. Weiss couldn't stop herself from smirking, but she did her best to make up for it by pointing at the next intersection.

"Let's go right, here." The adventurer didn't answer, but her muttering increased in pitch. Weiss took that as a yes. As they rounded the corner, she glanced at the silver numbers embossed on the doorframes. _1471_ _... 1453... 1409..._

"Wrong way," she admitted.

"I _hate_ this place!" Ruby growled—then froze. "Um, no offense?"

Weiss pursed her lips, but said nothing. After all, the tower was working exactly as intended. It wasn't supposed to let a stranger leave so easily. The corridor branched again, and she turned down one hallway more or less randomly—not that she'd ever admit it out loud.

Ruby glanced around, fiddling with the hilt of her sword. She'd insisted on keeping the thing even though it was barely still in one piece. "Um... the numbers are still going down.

"I am aware of that. We just need to keep... trying..."

"Weiss?" Ruby waved a hand in front of her face.

 _"Shut up,"_ she hissed, turning her head and straining her ears. There, in the distance... footsteps.

Weiss could feel the blood drain from her face. Glancing around, she dashed towards the nearest door. Then she yanked Ruby inside and slammed it behind them.

"What's going on?"

"Listen."

It was far off, but she could hear the click of heels against the marble floor. Each step was slow, methodical—just like the man they belonged to. They weren't coming closer yet. She guessed he was at least two or three stories below them. How that translated into distance, considering the bizarre geometry of the tower, she had absolutely no idea.

"What is that?" Ruby whispered, glancing fearfully over her shoulder.

"Father," Weiss breathed.

"What? Your dad's here too?" Ruby crept closer to the door and put her ear against it.

Weiss did her best to glare a hole through her forehead. Ruby's eyes widened with dawning comprehension. "Oh! You mean the Warlock?"

"Obviously."

Ruby touched the hilt of her sword.

"What are you planning on doing with _that?"_

"I'm going to fight him?"

Weiss scoffed. "No, you aren't."

"But—"

"No. You'd just be locked up or worse, and I honestly have no idea what he'd do if he found me." She worried at her bottom lip—a frustrating habit she'd never managed to break. "I already tried to leave once."

"Then... what do we do?"

"We run, and we hide." Weiss stood up and looked around the room. It was unfamiliar, probably added since she'd been put under house arrest. That, or it had never interested her as a child. It was empty except for a small window set high up in the wall. She gave it a calculating once-over and decided that even if she _could_ fit through there, she'd probably break her neck trying to get down.

"We need to go lower," she admitted. "Trying to find the way you came in obviously isn't working."

"Weren't you _just_ telling me that down is bad?"

"I know!" Weiss burst out, irritated. "It is, but we don't really have a choice."

Ruby groaned. "This would be _so_ much simpler if it had been a dragon instead."

"Because a flying, fire-breathing monstrosity with a hide like steel plating is somehow better than my father?" Weiss asked testily.

_"Yes!"_

She folded her arms over her chest and glared.

"Um, no offense?"

Weiss opened her mouth to say something positively _scathing,_ but stopped abruptly when she started hearing the footsteps again. "We can argue that point later," she decided.

"Where should we go, then?" Ruby asked, glancing around. Weiss pointed to the only other door in the room.

"That way, I suppose."

The door was unlocked, and they pushed through it into a long, narrow hallway. Weiss took turns at random, left and right and left again, counting down the numbers above the doors. _1129, 1097, 977..._

As they ran, the faint echoes of father's footsteps grew louder and louder. Sometimes they faded as if he was moving away, but they always returned even closer than before. It wasn't long before they were all she could hear, a series of dull thumps coming nearer and _nearer..._

"This isn't working," Ruby hissed, as they skidded around another corner and nearly tripped over a (thankfully inanimate) suit of armor. _937,_ read the door it was guarding.

"We just need to get to the bottom," Weiss whispered back. "Or maybe the second floor." She'd take the third, if necessary. They'd probably survive the drop.

There was a muffled _clang_ in the room next door, followed by a high metallic sound—something was heading right for them. Weiss clamped a hand over Ruby's mouth and ducked into the nearest room. The door didn't lock, because of _course_ it didn't, but the two of them shoved a heavy wardrobe in front of it. Without hesitating, she led them through another exit and into yet another hallway. All thoughts of what floor they were on vanished, but the numbers kept ticking down— _919, 887, 823..._

By the time they stopped for breath, the sound of Father's footfalls had faded into the distance. Ruby collapsed into a sitting position.

"What..." she tried, then stopped, panting. "...What do we do?"

"We keep going."

"Oh, _sure!"_ Ruby threw both hands in the air, then slumped back until she was lying on the floor. "'Cause that's been working just great!"

"We weren't caught, were we?" Weiss snapped. "Get up."

"I can't feel my legs..."

Weiss wasn't doing much better, but she couldn't have laid down if she wanted to. That was the wonderful thing about adrenaline.

"Are you supposed to be a hero or not?" she asked pointedly, nudging at Ruby with one foot. She whined, then struggled to her feet.

"A dragon would've been way easier."

Weiss didn't respond, apart from a frustrated snarl. She strode off down the corridor and dragged Ruby along by the hood.

"Hey!"

* * *

Three rights and a left later, the pair of them stopped dead. So did the corridor. For the last dozen yards there was nothing in the hallway. No doors, no windows, not even a suit of armor. Just smooth marble and a spotless white carpet on the floor.

"Why?" Ruby demanded, waving her arms around her head. "Why _build_ this?"

"Magic."

"Gyah!"

Weiss was about to say something else—driving the other girl up a wall was oddly cathartic. Then she heard someone walking towards them. Ruby tensed.

"It's not Father," Weiss said. The sound was too soft, too hesitant.

"Does that mean we fight whoever it is?"

"Unless you know how to walk through walls." Weiss gestured at the empty hallway behind them.

"Finally!"

It was probably for the best that Weiss never got the chance to respond to that. A figure stepped around the corner, holding a wicked-looking halberd loosely in his right hand.

"Hello, sister," he said pleasantly.

Where the Paladin had been gigantic, Whitley was only a little taller than Weiss. It was always strangely quiet considering its bulk, but her brother clinked when he walked. That wasn't his fault, of course—every inch of his armor, from helmet to greaves, was carved from ice.

"What are you doing here?" Weiss snapped, her voice as cold as she could make it.

"You have a _brother?"_

Both Weiss and Whitley turned to look at Ruby. She fidgeted.

"I don't know!" she burst out. "It just feels like I would've known, you know?"

"You met me _today."_

"Is that what you've become, dear sister? Running away with someone you hardly know?"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Better a mystery than a known evil."

"Evil? That seems harsh."

"Can we skip this part?" Ruby asked, sounding genuinely curious. "I kind of want to get out of this tower."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Weiss replied, flicking her rapier up into a more ready stance.

"Really?" Ruby perked up. Then she drew her mostly-broken sword and charged.

Whitley met the attack with his halberd. He stumbled back as their blades clashed, as if he'd underestimated the force of the blow, but within a few swings it was clear that he was nothing like the Paladin.

For one thing, as Weiss soon discovered, his weapon was not nearly as heavy—he had the option of feinting. The flat of the axe caught her in the stomach just as she was rushing forward, knocking her onto her back and sending her rapier skittering across the floor.

"Hey!" Ruby shouted, swinging wildly at him. Weiss scrambled over to her weapon, scooped it up off the floor, and raised it in time to block his next attack.

"You're not leaving," he told her, as he swept aside another of Ruby's blows with the butt of his axe.

"It's none of your business!" He dodged a blow from Ruby and lashed out with his halberd. She leapt nimbly over it, leaving Weiss almost positive that she was, in fact, a gymnast rather than a warrior.

It also turned out that when faced with superior agility, Whitley was not shy about exploiting the reach of his axe. Weiss had already been knocked off her feet once.

"Back off," she warned.

"No."

Weiss rolled her eyes. He should've been more careful about how he'd said that—she had known him when he was still in diapers, and there was nothing less intimidating than a reminder of a five-year-old being stubborn about his bedtime.

Then again, he wasn't taking her very seriously either. Weiss scowled at him, but couldn't do much about it—yet. An idea was forming in the back of her mind. It wasn't a very elegant one, and she wouldn't have tried it in any other circumstances... but it hadn't escaped her notice that he was avoiding hitting her with the sharp end of the axe.

The problem was, she needed Ruby to do her own part, and there was no way of telling her the plan. Weiss decided to hint and hope.

"Go high!" she shouted, "then take his axe!" His head tilted to the side in confusion, but he didn't have time to wonder _how_ Ruby would manage that.

She didn't seem to know either, but dutifully swept in with an overhead slash. When Whitley raised his halberd to block he left his side open. And, for the second time in the same day—as well as in her entire life—Weiss rushed in for a full-on tackle.

Against the Paladin, it wouldn't have worked. Partly because the thing's sword alone probably weighed more than she did, but also because it wasn't squeamish about attacking her so long as it was confident it wouldn't inflict serious injury. Whitley, on the other hand, did what any halfway-human being would do. When faced with even a remote possibility of skewering his own sibling, he dropped his axe.

She slammed into his chest shoulder-first, and Whitley toppled. He was taller than her—something that had annoyed her ever since he'd passed her at age twelve—and he was wearing armor, but she had surprise on her side. That, and his footwork was sloppy. Winter would've thrown a fit.

The pair of them crashed to the ground, with Weiss landing in a kneeling position on his chest. Whitley flailed helplessly and completely failed to dislodge her. His frozen armor leeched warmth from her fingers and knees, but she held on.

Ruby scooped up his axe, planted it on the ground, and looked down at them.

"I might owe gravity a share of the credit for this mission," she said fretfully. "It's been doing most of the work so far."

Weiss glared at her, not sure whether or not she was joking. Whitley made another feeble attempt to push her away.

"You've lost," Weiss told him. "Now leave me alone."

He lifted his head and said, "No." When he let it fall, his full-face helmet hit the floor with a clink. A small crack appeared on its surface, and his breathing sped up. He seemed awfully attached to the thing. Scowling, Weiss yanked it off and tossed it down the hallway.

Whitley's armor wasn't the only thing that was frozen. His head, his neck, even his _hair,_ were all sculpted from solid crystalline ice. Everything was exquisitely detailed except his face. He looked unfinished, with nothing but a jagged plain between his brow and his chin.

"Don't..." he groaned, without a mouth.

"What happened to him?!" Ruby demanded, leaning in over Weiss' shoulder. She didn't answer. Her fingers were numb from cold, and it felt like her brain had followed suit.

"Don't..."

"Don't, what?" Weiss got to her feet. He was free, but made no move to rise from the floor. She towered over him, like this.

"Please... don't leave."

He heaved himself up onto his elbows. "Don't go." He reached for her ankle.

Weiss took a few rapid steps back, then stopped. A chill spread across her back, and she was struck with the urge to check over her own body, to make sure it was still made of flesh and bone.

"We can take him with us, can't we?" Ruby asked quietly.

Stepping forward, Weiss took one of his hands in hers. The temperature made her flinch, but she tugged him to his feet. He swayed, then toppled.

"Whitley!"

He landed on one knee, barely keeping balance by holding onto her hand. She reached for his shoulder.

There was a crash—the sound doors make when they are opened by someone in a hurry, or someone very angry. She flinched and lost her grip on Whitley's hand. It was wet, maybe melting, and that made it slippery.

Weiss could hear footsteps, now, much too close. She backed away, eyes flickering frantically around. Where were they coming from...?

"Wait!" Whitley called out. "Please!"

 **"Weiss."** The word cut the air like a whip, and before she could think she was running. Grabbing Ruby's hood—it was so convenient she came with a handle—she took off in a dead sprint, keeping her eyes glued to the floor in front of her. The footsteps were so loud they echoed, as if they were just about to turn the corner...

They turned too sharply and Weiss bounced off the wall. Momentarily dazed, she stopped just long enough to catch a snatch of conversation behind her.

"Hello, father."

Weiss dashed down the hall, passing ghostly family portraits and pale suits of armor. Porcelain vases and snowy tapestries lined the corridor, and her ivory heels made tiny imprints on a pristine white carpet. Ruby's cloak flapped behind her, a splash of brilliant crimson.

* * *

Clutching her rapier so hard that her knuckles began to ache, Weiss stumbled down another hallway, and another and another. The room numbers dropped steadily. _223, 211, 199..._

"This is the second floor." Weiss scanned her surroundings. "There has to be a window..."

"We're just going to leave him? He's your brother!"

"I can't—" Weiss took a deep breath. "He made his choice a long time ago. It's too late, now."

"But—"

"No!" Weiss turned to glare at the adventurer. "I don't like it either, but this isn't a fight we can win. Let's _go."_

Ruby glared at her for a moment. Then, reluctantly, she nodded.

"Thank you."

After that, it was just a matter of finding a room with a window big enough for them to climb out of. The first one they found was locked, but Ruby still had Whitley's halberd and it worked pretty well as a universal lock pick.

Getting down was more of a challenge. Weiss hung feet-first from the window while Ruby held on to her wrists and leaned out as far as she could. The drop was still a solid ten feet, and her legs buckled under her as she hit the ground.

Ruby just sat on the windowsill and pitched herself into open air, landing in a semi-graceful roll and lurching back to her feet. She grinned, as if to say, "Ta da!" and Weiss raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

There were no alarms when they walked away from the tower, no distant footsteps or shouts from inside. It was eerie, and she looked over her shoulder so often her neck started aching. Ruby hummed to herself as she walked, something Weiss would have found insufferable on a _good_ day.

"Mission accomplished!" she crowed, flourishing the halberd and bowing theatrically in Weiss' general direction. She was tempted to push her over—Ruby's balance was precarious enough that it probably wouldn't be hard—but she _was_ grateful and it felt like it would like bad form.

"We haven't gotten away from the tower yet."

Ruby waved a hand, as if Father bearing down on them in all his wrath was no big deal. "We beat the bad guys—sort of—and got out alive. That's a victory, in my book!"

"Fine," Weiss said, rolling her eyes. "Where are we going, then?"

"There!"

Turning to look at where Ruby had pointed, Weiss found herself looking at a squat, overgrown building that had somehow taken root right in Father's backyard. He couldn't _possibly_ have overlooked something like that.

Cheerfully ignoring how bizarre it was, Ruby skipped over to the front door and knocked. There was a shuffling sound from inside and the door was yanked open hard enough that she almost fell over.

Weiss opened her mouth to greet them. Then, as she looked the woman up and down, her face froze into a rigid scowl. "Mother."

The woman opened her arms as if she expected a hug. Weiss stayed right where she was.

"So, uh..." Ruby glanced nervously between them. "I guess you're good, now?"

"I most certainly am not," Weiss snapped. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"This is my property, too." Mother's expression softened. "It's good to see you." She reached out for her daughter. Weiss slapped her hand away.

"Honey..."

"Don't call me that."

Ruby tried to intervene. "Guys, uh—"

Weiss grabbed her by the sleeve and turned to walk away. Ruby dug in her heels and made a distressed whining sound.

"Weiss!" her mother called out. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Anywhere else."

"You don't have to go anywhere," she said, with a tentative smile. "I have plenty of room. We can be together, just the two of us..."

Weiss stared at her a moment. "Why would I want to do that?"

"She's your _mom!"_ Ruby insisted. Weiss gave her arm another pull, but she wouldn't budge.

"I know I wasn't always there for you—"

"Not _always?"_ Weiss said, dumbstruck. She let go of Ruby and marched up to her mother.

"I made a mistake," she insisted. "But it'll be different now, you'll see!"

Weiss crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I don't see how. You never bothered trying."

"Of course I did!" her mother hissed. "I got you out, didn't I?"

"You told someone else to do it for you," Weiss countered. "And you're too late, anyway."

"Weiss—"

"Come on." This time, she grabbed Ruby's hood and ignored the indignant squawking behind her. She followed without protest, maybe because she had finally gotten it through her thick skull that her mother was the _last—_ well, second-to-last—person Weiss wanted to live with. That, or she was too busy making sure her cloak didn't strangle her.

Her mother stumbled after them for a few paces before stopping halfway down the path that led to her forest cottage. "Please, stay!" she called out. When Weiss didn't respond, she made no move to stop them.

If Weiss had been inclined to give her a second chance, she would have just wasted it.

Ruby stopped cooperating after a few hundred yards. Without turning around, Weiss released her hood and kept walking.

"What was _that?"_ the girl demanded, jogging forward a few paces so that Weiss could see her glaring.

"Our reunion."

Ruby groaned and ruffled a hand through her hair. "I don't understand!"

"I don't want anything to do with her. What's hard to understand?"

"She's your mother!"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "I don't care."

 _"No!"_ Ruby shouted, stepping in front of her and giving her a rough shove. "She's your mom, you can't just not _care!"_

Eyes narrowing, Weiss tried to go around her. Ruby moved with her so that she stayed in the way.

"Ugh! Who said this was any of your business?"

"I never got to know my mom, okay?!" Ruby burst out. "She died when I was little. So... you can't just throw away a chance like this!"

Weiss chewed her lip. "I'm sorry about your mom," she said. "But it's different."

"Yeah! _You_ can go back!"

"Why should I?" Weiss growled.

"She's your—"

"She's _pathetic."_

Ruby's eyes widened as if she'd just been slapped, but Weiss kept talking. "That's _her_ tower. This is _her_ land. She could have told Father to get out, or she could have just left. She—she could've taken us _with_ her. Instead, she hid out here and pretended nothing was wrong. I don't want anything to do with her."

Breathing hard, Weiss glared at Ruby as if daring her to protest. Instead, she just flipped up her hood and said, "Oh."

"Yes, _oh._ Now where are we going?"

Ruby blinked. "Um..."

"Where were you going before all of this?"

"I was just wandering around, looking for adventures. It turns out those are sort of hard to find, so... where do you want to go?"

"I..." Now, it was Weiss' turn to be flabbergasted. After spending so long trying to leave the tower, now that she had done it she was completely adrift. Except...

"I want to find my sister," she decided.

"Um, okay!" Ruby chirped. "That's...?"

"South of here."

"Right, yeah." She grinned and flashed Weiss a thumbs-up.

Weiss couldn't help returning the smile. Looking around, she took in for the first time the vibrant colors all around her. A squirrel perched on a nearby branch, chittering at them. Leaves rustled in the warm breeze. A cluster of brilliant orange mushrooms grew along the trunk of a tree. She took a moment to breathe in the free air, heady with the scent of wildflowers.

Ruby stopped abruptly in the middle of the path.

"What is it _now?"_

"...You have a sister?"


	3. 2a — Hunters, Hounds, and Hickory

It was a ritual, by now.

Blake stopped as she always did, on the banks of a brook that wound along the forest floor. She unlaced her boots and leaned them against a rock. Barefoot, she stepped over the stream, curling her toes into the bed of soft moss on the other side. It was late afternoon, with the sun slanting in between the leaves and glinting gold on the wet rocks.

She moved down a rocky incline, careful where she placed her feet, and followed a curve in the landscape that dipped into a shallow valley. The gigantic oaks and maples she'd been passing through gave way to hickory. Dappled shadows flitted across her face.

Head bowed, she approached the tallest tree in the grove. It was really two trees, grown so close together that their trunks had fused. The smaller one was all dry, dead twigs, and its only leaves sprouted from where it met the larger. Strips of bark covered them like jagged scales. Their roots were gnarled together, digging deep into rich black soil.

She stopped in its shadow and placed a palm flat against its larger trunk. "Hi, Yang."

There was a laugh behind her. "You know you could've done that to any one of 'em, right?"

"This one seemed more fitting."

"More dramatic, you mean."

Yang was leaning halfway out of one of the lesser trees. As Blake watched, she stepped into the grove and stretched. Her skin, covered in the same spiny bark as her trees, rasped against the trunk she'd come from. The hair tumbling down her back went from gold to mossy green at the roots. In deference to what she called 'meat-people rules,' she was wearing a shirt and shorts woven from the leaves around her. Blake still had no idea if she'd made them, or just grown them.

"So." She put both hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. "You're back."

"Yeah."

A smirk. "And when you said you wouldn't be..."

Blake winced and looked at the ground. "I know. I do, I just—"

"Wasn't a complaint. I'm messing with you."

"Right." There was an awkward pause, as Yang waited patiently for Blake to unravel. Then, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to impose, I just..."

"Who's chasing you this time?"

"...The townspeople."

Yang raised an eyebrow. "Then who chased you into town?"

Blake's ears flattened against her skull.

"Same guy?"

"Yeah."

"Well then." Yang gestured around the grove. "What's mine is yours! You know the rules. Don't break off any bark, don't start any fires, don't let me see any hatchets—"

"Hands off the trees. I remember."

"Hands are fine. Steel, not so much."

Blake roamed around, stopping when she noticed vines hanging from one of the trees. They had rounded leaves and pale white berries. Last time she'd been here, there hadn't been anything in the grove but hickory, and some smaller plants underfoot. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see signs of the new plant all over. There were even a few sprigs on the central tree, the one Yang called her heart.

"What are these?" she asked, using her finger to tilt one of the leaves up for Yang to see.

She made a face. "Mistletoe."

"...What?"

"It's mistletoe."

Blake took another look, trying to imagine the berries in bright red. It still didn't look right. "Aren't the leaves supposed to be spiky?"

"You're thinking of holly." Yang grabbed the vine she was looking at and ripped it violently from its perch. Blake gaped at her.

"But... what are you doing?"

"Killing it." Yang crumpled up the vine. "With extreme prejudice."

"...Not a fan of kissing, then?"

Yang gave her an odd look. "What's kissing have to do with anything?"

"In some places there's a tradition where people kiss under the mistletoe."

"Meat-people are weird." Yang gestured with the broken vine. "I'm killing it because it's a parasite. Saps energy from _my_ trees, and then it spreads all over."

"Oh."

"Remember my no blades rule? Might make an exception for some hedge clippers. If you come back."

Blake soon realized why it had taken her so long to notice the infestation of mistletoe. Most of the vines had been pulled away, except for a few here and there. And, she soon realized, in one spot where they hung from two trees and met in the middle, forming a little dip. When she got closer, she saw that the inside had been filled with moss.

"Did... did you make this?"

"Yeah, well..." Yang turned away, ostensibly so she could glare at one of the vines. "I figure if I'm gonna be taking in strays all the time, I might as well have somewhere to put 'em."

If it were anyone else, Blake might have being bristled at being called a stray. She could still remember the first time she'd shown Yang her ears—it had been their second meeting, when she'd broken her arm and fled into the grove from the northern mountains. The dryad had kept staring at her, like she was still waiting for the big reveal. Blake had to explain that some humans thought she was little better than a wild animal because of them.

 _"Don't flatter yourself, two-legger,"_ Yang had said, grinning.

Besides, she couldn't really argue with that description. Not when all her visits could be summed up by a list of injuries—broken arm, stab wound, cracked rib—and the names of the people who were hunting her.

* * *

Adam was the first person on that list, or at least the first one that really mattered. They had boarded a train heading from Vale to Mistral. He said the explosives were for opening up the vault in the second car. That changed when they realized there was an SDC executive on board. From there... there was a choice to make. To be a fanatical monster or a cowardly traitor. She decoupled the cars.

That created a gap between her and Adam, but she was left stranded on a train full of enemy guards. She escaped, barely, with a hole in her shoulder and her thoughts bleeding into a hazy fog. The night sky had opened up above her, scattered with stars like a trillion staring eyes. She stumbled into the forest hoping to find a quiet place to die.

Instead, she woke up in the grove with her arm wrapped in leaves and a pile of hickory nuts by her elbow. Blake thought at first that some hiker had found her and done what they could. She turned out to be a talking tree instead.

Right about then there was a campaign in Vale to cut back social welfare programs aimed at helping homeless faunus. A lot of humans supported the movement, and almost all of them hid their most vile rhetoric behind palatable excuses. One didn't. John Winchester went on record saying what everyone was thinking. "If you feed them once, you can be damned sure they'll come back."

It was a major talking point in the weeks after Blake left the grove for the first time. Indignant rage mixed with fear for the future boiled up in her, in everyone she knew. And in everyone she used to know. Winchester turned up dead less than a month after his statement.

Not long after that, Blake returned to the rural town of Patch and hovered there in limbo, hating herself for coming back. But even as she traced the route from the village to the grove for the first time, she told herself this didn't prove him right. It wasn't food she was looking for. It was safety. It was falling asleep somewhere she didn't have to worry about waking up at knife-point.

Blake left after around a week. Then she came back. Left again. Rinse, repeat. Yang stopped looking sad when Blake left, never to return, after about the third time. She started laughing after the fifth.

She thought she'd finally managed to kick the habit when she moved from Vale to Mistral. Life went on, and she'd known for a while now that safe didn't stay safe very long if you kept coming back to it.

She made friends with Sun like everyone did—completely by accident and against her better judgment. He was almost like a second shadow sometimes, if a shadow could be loud and annoying. Unlike the humans she'd been on decent terms with, she could talk about the mess of shame, fear, and rage she felt, and he'd understand. But he wasn't like her old friends in the White Fang either. He understood _why_ she was angry, but he wasn't. Not really. She chalked that up to a combination of his good luck, and the fact that there wasn't a malicious bone in his body. He was... wholesome. She didn't have enough of that in her life.

He liked to walk home with her at night. She tolerated the company, even though it took twice as long with him getting distracted by street vendors and gaggles of children playing ball and, once, an actual honest-to-gods butterfly. Mistral started to feel almost welcoming.

Blake got complacent. She didn't notice someone was following her until she and Sun were cornered in a dead-end street. A masked woman stared them down, holding a whip with a wicked blade at its tip.

"I'm not part of that anymore," she said. As if it mattered.

They fought. Sun knocked the woman's mask off. Blake froze, staring at her face. The face that always used to turn stoplight red whenever she was flustered. Or fluorescent pink, or lime green, or magenta, flashing like a strobe light as a small crowd of children shouted requests.

In the end, Ilia didn't have the heart to do what she was sent to do. Blake escaped with a few broken ribs. Sun didn't. She met his friend Neptune for the first and last time at the funeral, and within a week she was back in Patch.

Yang didn't comment on the long absence, but that time when Blake left and said she wasn't coming back, she didn't laugh.

* * *

"Uh, Blake?"

She jumped. "What?"

"You spaced out a little, there."

Blake noticed her grip on one of the mistletoe vines had left a red line across her palm. She relaxed by degrees, then ran a hand through the moss that had been painstakingly woven into the hammock.

"I was just... trying to figure out how to thank you. This is incredible."

Yang shrugged and melted halfway into a tree. Blake knew by now that... _unique_ bit of body language meant she was embarrassed. "Glad you like it."

"Isn't it hurting the trees?"

"Nah." She pointed at a maple tree a few yards beyond the edge of the grove. Four separate vines were draped across its branches. "See that? _That_ hurts the tree. One or two isn't bad as long as I keep 'em from spreading."

Blake placed a hand on the lower branches of one of Yang's trees. "Do you mind if I climb up?"

"Nope."

Once in the upper branches, she grabbed hold of a vine she'd spotted from the ground and tore it away. By the time she'd finished, she was sweating and covered up to the elbows in dirt and bits of bark and tiny scratches from the tree's thorns. She also had a handful of nuts in each pocket. Yang offered her more when she got back to the ground.

As the evening wore on, the sweat evaporated and she started to shiver. Yang sat next to her, though she didn't have any body heat to share. There was no fire in the grove, so Blake curled in on herself and bore it. She'd been colder. Then the fireflies and bats came out, and she sat with her back against one of the trees and watched them.

Stars multiplied into vast, scattered nebulae, like someone had tossed a cup of glowing sand into the sky. The moon rose. Yang retreated back into her trees, and Blake curled up in the hammock. It was a more comfortable bed than she'd had in months. Maybe longer. The trees stood like silent sentinels, keeping watch. And finally, _finally,_ she was safe enough to let sleep take her.

* * *

The heat woke her up.

Blake opened her eyes groggily. The air smelled like smoke. She jerked upright and tried to leap out of the hammock, but her ankle got tangled in the vines and she landed face-first in the dirt. The night sounds had been replaced with a low, omnipresent roar. She scrambled to her feet and whirled around. No matter where she looked, she could see the same ruddy glow on the horizon. She stared, paralyzed.

But she wasn't the one in the most danger, here. "Yang!"

"Busy." She couldn't tell where the voice had come from. Then one of the trees near the edge of the grove let out a low groan. It cracked and bent. Its limbs went dry and dead and bony. Its leaves shriveled and fell to the ground. It trembled, shuddered, and went down. Dark earth was ripped up by its roots.

Yang stumbled out of the fallen tree and collapsed to one knee, gasping. She stood up and shoved at it, forcing it away from the rest of the grove inch by painful inch.

"What are you doing?!"

"I have to make a buffer. Can't let it spread." The reply was little more than a grunt, with all her focus on moving the tree. Not knowing what else to do, Blake sprinted over and helped. They toppled four trees. Yang put a hand on each one before she killed it, murmuring something in a language Blake didn't understand.

It didn't matter anyway. A hickory tree on the other end of the grove caught fire and Yang crumpled. Flames leaped from branch to branch. Blake was sweating through her clothes, choking on the smoke. She fumbled for something, _anything_ that could stop it, but there was nothing. The creek was far away, and there was no way she could carry enough water to make a difference. Her head spun. She stumbled through the trees.

About fifteen feet away stood a woman in a mask, carrying a torch in one hand. Blake ducked down behind the trunk of a fallen tree and watched as she touched the fire to the undergrowth she was standing in. Then she vanished into the woods, running to keep ahead of the flames.

_It's him._

Blake pushed herself upright. The heat hit her like a physical force. She moved on instinct, sprinting always towards the coolest, darkest place she could see. Over the roar of the wildfire she could hear barking and howling.

She remembered the Rabbit's Foot, a group of poachers in Mistral who were infamous for hunting faunus. _Fire to flush them out._ They'd published a guide, for amateurs following in their footsteps. _Then they'll run right into the dogs._

A fit of coughing sent her reeling, bent double. There was a downed tree right in front of her. She crawled under a tangle of damp roots, catching a hint of its rich forest smell under the smoke and ash. That got her past the worst of the fire. The dogs were still barking. She kept running.


	4. 2b — Dammit, I'm mad!

Time was measured in rings. Rings around her center. Rings where she could breathe, where the sounds of insects soothed jagged nights and rain fell. Rings where the cold set in and her life fluttered down around her and slipped away into the ground.

There had been one survivor. It was one of the younger trees, but not the youngest. Straight, medium height. Forgettable. But when the forest burned it sheltered her in its roots, deep in the cool dark earth. It protected her, like she protected the grove, but it didn't escape unscathed. The tree was scarred with great black streaks that ran up and down its trunk. It was weak, _painfully_ weak, but it wasn't dead. That was the thing about plants. Nothing short of death itself could stop them from growing back.

Yang wasn't a tree, though. She wasn't patient like a dryad should be. Sometimes the stillness and quiet was peaceful like it was supposed to be, but most times it was suffocating. When she'd expanded, nurturing her Heart's children, she'd reveled in the freedom to walk around the grove. Now all that was gone, and she was trapped the way she used to be—half-dreaming inside her Heart, or poking her head out and watching the world go by, dynamic and chaotic and wonderful, and always out of reach.

It was easier to focus on the tree than herself. To her Heart, pain didn't matter. Frailty didn't matter. It wasn't dead, and it would heal. Whether that took months, years, or even centuries, it didn't care. It didn't see this as a setback the way she did. Soon its children would spread all around it, and its children's children. The grove would return. It would die. Its body would nurture the grove. Yang would move on. To the tree, all these things might as well have been a few minutes away. They were certain.

Until, very suddenly, they weren't.

It took Yang a long time to figure out something was wrong. Rings went by, strength returned. Winter came, and it dwindled again. Then spring, and they would be rejuvenated. It was a constant upward spiral, until spring came and they _didn't_ feel rejuvenated. The exhaustion of winter waned a little, then returned worse than ever.

Her Heart was patient. It was cautious. It was willing to endure until it recovered. But Yang was scared, frustrated, and maybe a little reckless, so she summoned up energy she wasn't totally sure they could afford and poked her head out into the world.

Her trees were gone. She'd known they were, but part of her had expected to see them anyway. Worst of all was the gap where her old Heart had been. Her Heart, and her biggest failure. All erased. But, at the same time, the landscape wasn't a barren wasteland of ash and charred wood. It was fresh and green. There were tufts of grass and blueberry bushes and young slender saplings, all bursting into life in the height of springtime. Everything looked _young._ New life. New beginnings. She thought she might have preferred the ashes.

Still. She wasn't here to mope. She craned her neck to look around—and just like that, the problem was obvious.

"Oh, come on. _Mistletoe?!"_

A strong tree could support a handful of the parasites, but her Heart was not a strong tree. Not yet. It needed every bit of energy it could muster, and here was this _stupid_ vine sapping it all away. Worse, she couldn't _reach_ it! Manifesting fully would probably kill her Heart outright. Before she'd had her grove she could only do it occasionally, and not for very long. Now, with her tree injured...

"Fantastic," she grumbled. "We survived a goddamn inferno and now we're going to get killed by a weed."

She pulled her head back inside. Had to save their energy. There was a chance, if they had really bountiful summers, that maybe they would pull through. She'd just have to wait it out.

So, that was what she tried to do. Anxiety became such a constant presence in the back of her mind that she couldn't remember what it had felt like to be without it. Her Heart was calm. It didn't fear death like she did—it was only part of the cycle. Yang really wished she could talk to someone who wasn't a tree.

She hadn't realized she'd become so dependent on _conversation._ It had been years—she wasn't sure how many, but probably more than most meat-people lived—since she'd had someone to talk to every day. That was a wound that still hadn't healed. She'd just grown over it, like a tree grows over a notch with a knife still sticking out of it. She'd gotten used to the silence, and having long drawn-out discussions with confused rabbits. Then she had to take in a stray.

The first goodbye had been a brutal, wrenching blow that Yang had tried to play off. The second was, if anything, worse. By the third and fourth, she was used to it. It was only a phantom pain, a ghostly ache more for the fact that she _did_ care, that it _did_ hurt, than for the fact that Blake was leaving again. The main thing that got her through it each time was knowing that she'd come back.

She'd run away during the fire. That was just common sense—two-leggers were fragile and she couldn't have done much to help. At first Yang had hoped she'd made it out, that it was just a matter of time. But, if she hadn't come back by now... she probably couldn't. Not ever again.

* * *

Rings came and went. Usually Yang loved fights—an unwary woodsman wandering into her grove was one of the highlights of her last decade. This fight was different. Instead of adrenaline and action, it was all about endurance. Her Heart struggled, and she stayed very still so that she didn't leech energy from it. She cut off food supply to some branches she knew were infested. Sometimes she looked to check if the mistletoe had spread. It usually had.

Branches died. If she was lucky, they fell away and returned to the soil as nutrients her Heart could use. If she wasn't, they stayed there and weighed the tree down. It was a constant tug of war between her and the parasite. She was losing.

More rings. She was in the dark almost constantly. Sounds were muted. Awareness contracted to herself and her Heart. Her soul was leaking out, slowly but surely, leaving her sluggish and empty.

But if Yang and her Heart had anything in common, it was that they were both stubborn as hell. She hung on, culling the dying branches and extending root systems and halting all nonessential functions. She kept the leaves on the branches a little longer than was natural, praying that an early snowfall wouldn't kill them both. Her Heart bore it all with the same quiet patience. They turned a corner.

The mistletoe was still there, and would be for a while, but now they had the energy to support it. One spring, eighteen rings after the fire, her Heart bore its first nuts in a long, long time Yang could almost sense the same future the tree did. A new grove, all descended from her old Heart, spreading over the valley floor. Farther, even. Before the fire, she'd been planning on expanding to the top of one of the two ridges on either side of them. If she couldn't travel the world, at least she could look at it.

So she spent one spring day in a dreamy half-sleep, listening as the night sounds started, her mind on the future. And, sometime around midnight, she heard footsteps.

She snapped back to full wakefulness. There was someone in her grove—though it wasn't really _her_ grove anymore—someone coming from the stream to the south. The sounds were so quiet she almost thought she'd imagined them, but then they got closer and she was sure. She kept still. Sometimes hikers or hunters passed this way. Maybe it was just a lost kid.

Something touched the trunk of her Heart. She tensed, half-expecting a hatchet, but it wasn't steel.

"Yang? Are you there?"

There was a lurch, and for a second Yang was back in the roots of her Heart, drifting. Then she thrust her arm out, grabbing Blake by the wrist. She jerked back, startled, and hung there.

"You're alive," she murmured, reverently.

"So are you." Yang let go of Blake's arm. She was still reeling. The relief faded, and in its place she felt a surge of resentment. _She was fine, this whole time._

"Yang, I—"

"Things have been kind of fuzzy, time-wise, but I'm guessing since you're wrinklier it's been a while."

"...Yeah."

She sighed. Explosively. "Great. Nice of you to check in."

Blake looked at the ground. "I know I should have come sooner..."

"Oh, _really?"_

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't think you were... then I saw the tree and I thought maybe—"

"Look, I don't want to hear it! I get that this was just a convenient place for you to crash, I knew you weren't going to stay, but a heads up to let me know you're alive after you disappear in the middle of a forest fire would've been _nice."_

"I'm sorry! I just..." She lurched, grabbing at the tree's trunk to steady herself. Her hand left a red smear on its bark. Yang had about half a second to stare before Blake tipped over, and she reached out and caught her on instinct. Then, very carefully, she lowered her to the ground between her Heart's roots.

"Damn it," she muttered.

A twig snapped somewhere nearby. Not a deer, either—only two-leggers made _that_ much noise.

At the height of her power, with her grove behind her, she could have fought off the intruder. She could have grown the roots of her Heart over Blake to hide her. Now, weak as she was, she covered her with her body and hoped she blended in enough.

She heard footsteps nearby. Crunching leaves. A disapproving grunt. Then the footsteps receded, and Yang relaxed—though only a little. She went to work the moment the hunter was out of earshot. Maybe that wasn't wise, he might come back, but she had the sense that waiting might make staying hidden a moot point anyway.

There were things to be done, things she didn't really know how to do—though she'd had a lot of practice over the years. She wrapped the wound in leaves. She gathered whatever moss or soft grasses she could that were within arm's reach, making Blake as comfortable as she could. And all the while she was conscious of a sick, leaden feeling in the back of her mind. She wasn't strong enough for this.

Nightfall left her slumped at the base of her Heart, the back of her head resting against its trunk. It was, as always, a solid and dependable presence. Blake was sleeping, or maybe unconscious. Yang didn't know enough about two-legger biology to tell the difference. All she knew was that the water in people was red, like in animals, and they died if they lost too much of it at once. Her trees, it seemed to her, had a much more sensible way of storing it.

Yang glanced down and saw that Blake was shivering in her sleep. _Right,_ she thought. _They also die if they get cold._ That was true of her trees too, but there wasn't even frost on the ground. She glanced around. There was nothing to burn, and she didn't think she would have been able to face lighting a fire even if there was. She didn't have any body heat. That left... what?

Just then, she caught a glimpse of a doe standing a few dozen feet off, staring at her with liquid black eyes. Slowly, so that she wouldn't startle her, Yang reached up and tugged on one of her Heart's branches. It bent, bringing its lowest leaves within easy reach. The doe approached slowly, wary more of Blake than Yang.

"It's not free." The doe cocked her head, freezing in place at the noise. Yang pointed at Blake. "Can you lie down there?"

A lot of humans and faunus assumed she could talk to animals. That wasn't true, at least not the way they meant it. They _did_ share a basic connection, but it was a pale shadow of what she had with her Heart. They usually got the gist of what she meant. Usually.

The doe kept staring at her. Then she extended her slender neck and regarded Blake through thick lashes. Her head tilted back towards Yang, incredulous.

"Yeah, I know. I'm an idiot."

With that admission, the doe came closer. She sniffed at the leaves Yang was offering, then edged nearer to Blake. Finally, she prodded her back with her nose. No reaction. The doe hesitated, then gave her another nudge. Still nothing. Satisfied, she trotted back to where Yang was holding the branch. She ate all that was offered, and finally lay down next to Blake. The shivering didn't stop, but it did seem like it had slowed down some.

Twice, Yang heard the sounds of people searching the woods, but they didn't come close enough to see anything. Finally, when it had been hours since she'd heard anything suspicious and it was so dark she doubted any human could navigate the forest, she collapsed back into her Heart and rested.

She emerged again when she felt a hand on the bark of her tree. Blake leaned against the trunk, one hand pressed against the clumsy bandage around her middle. The doe was nowhere to be found—she had probably bolted when the faunus started to stir.

"What...?"

"You passed out. A few people came through the woods, but they didn't see you."

At that, Blake tried to sit up and hissed in pain. "I thought I'd lost them."

"It's okay," Yang insisted. She put her hands on her friends shoulders and gently discouraged her from doing something stupid like standing up. "They're gone now."

"But I—" Blake groaned and pulled her knees to her chest. "I swore I'd never—I shouldn't have come back here. I don't even know why I did, I just... I should go."

"Yeah." Yang leaned her elbows on her Heart's trunk and propped her chin on both fists. "'Cause you're in great shape for hiking right now."

Blake tried to argue with that. Yang just stared at her, one eyebrow raised, until she stopped. "There's a hole in you. Stay put."

At that, she finally gave up and leaned her back against the trunk of the tree. Then she glanced up, twisting her head around to look. "Is that..."

"The last one. Yeah."

Blake curled both arms around her middle and looked at her lap. "I'm sorry."

"It's not like you killed them," Yang pointed out. Even saying the words hurt. She tried not to think about her first Heart. The whole point of a dryad was a symbiotic relationship with the trees. They fed and sheltered her, she took care of them and shielded them from harm. Some guardian she turned out to be. Couldn't protect her trees, her Heart... or her sister.

"Yang?"

"Nothing," she said automatically. "Just lost in thought." Blake had curled up even tighter, and she wasn't making eye contact.

"I did," she murmured.

"Huh?"

"It was my fault. The fire... they were chasing me. I thought I lost them in the woods, but..." Yang froze. Slowly, she looked at Blake. Still staring at the ground.

"You know, I understood why you ran off," she gritted out. "It sucked, but there's not much else anyone can do against a fire like that. I only stuck around because I have to. But I figured you'd come back in a few days, once it was safe. And then I thought, hey, maybe you'll come around in a month, or a year."

"I thought about it," Blake said quietly, "but—"

"No!" Yang slapped her hand against the trunk of her Heart so hard that a few bits of bark flaked away. She winced. "No. You always came back here looking for a place to crash, and that was fine. All I ever asked was not to hurt the trees. Then that goes to hell, and you don't even check to see if I'd survived for over a decade?! I thought you were _dead!"_

Blake flinched. "I didn't think it was safe to come back. I told you I shouldn't have, I can just—"

"You're not going anywhere with that," Yang snapped, gesturing at her stomach. "You stay here until you heal up, one last time. And then you go away, and _don't_ come back here. Understand?"

Whatever Blake tried to say came out as a croak. She nodded shakily.

"Good." Yang turned on her heel, then realized there was nowhere for her to go. She stalked back into her Heart, letting its calm wash over her.

 _I know you don't care,_ she thought at it. _That's why I'm here. You don't know how to be angry at people who hurt you._

Yang stayed like that for a while, trying and failing to relax. She was only snapped out of it when she felt someone tapping gently on the trunk of her Heart. She stuck her head out.

"What?"

Blake bit her lip and looked at the ground. "I was wondering... do you have any more nuts?"

Yang took a deep breath. It didn't help. "No," she said shortly. "I don't. That was the last of them."

"I thought..." Blake glanced over at the tree. "I mean... they used to..."

"Yeah. Used to." Yang folded her arms. "It's still weak from the fire."

She looked at the scars on its bark and flinched. "Oh."

Both Yang's hands curled into fists, and she turned her head away while she tried to cool off. She spotted something on the ground and stooped down. A sprig of mistletoe had fallen.

Straightening up, she turned to face Blake and tucked the leaves behind her ear. Judging by the way her eyes widened and flicked to the upper branches, she recognized the plant.

"You two match," Yang said, and disappeared back into her Heart.

* * *

Sometime the next morning, Yang felt a twig snap. She threw herself out of her Heart's trunk in a panic and whirled around. Blake was in the upper branches. Slowly, she sifted through the leaves around her until she found what she was looking for. Another stick broke off, and she tossed it to the ground.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!"

Blake startled so badly she almost fell out of the tree. She grabbed a branch at the last second, but she pulled at her wound and crumpled against the trunk with a small, pained whimper. Then, slowly, her white-knuckled grip relaxed enough for her to look over her shoulder.

"There are dead branches up here. I... I've read they pull nutrients from the live ones."

Yang stared at her for a moment, mouth slightly open. Then, she squinted at her Heart's upper branches and realized that something was missing. Sure enough, the mistletoe vine lay in an undignified heap on the forest floor. She looked back at Blake, who was pale and a little shaky.

"Get down from there," she said. It came out harsher than she meant it to. She sighed. "Thank you, for that." She pointed at the parasite. "But leave the dead twigs alone. Snapping them off hurts, and I can stop giving them energy if I want."

Blake needed a hand getting down, and once she was back on the ground she leaned heavily against the tree. "I need food," she said. Then, seeing the look on Yang's face, she added hurriedly, "Not from you. I can forage for myself, I just..." She wobbled a bit. "I need a minute."

Yang sighed. "Look... take care of yourself, okay? Don't open that up again." She gestured at the cut on her stomach.

Blake bit her lip. "I—I'll go, if you want me to. But I was thinking, last night, and... you're right. I've been taking all this for granted, and I'd like to make it up to you if I can."

"...What?"

"Well, you told me once it can be hard for you to manifest. If you're running low on energy... I can walk around. Find things like fertilizer. I can climb other trees and move their branches so they don't block the sun."

"You... want to help."

Blake nodded.

"Fine." She had to force the word out. Blake's eyes lit up, which was almost as irritating as being forced to accept help in the first place. She resented the idea that this was repayment, that it made things square. Things were _not_ square.

At least she left Yang to stew when she went looking for food. She spent that time in her Heart. It was going to be hard keeping them alive even with someone else helping. Might as well start conserving energy.

Throughout that spring, Blake grew stronger and Yang spent more and more time hibernating. Her dreams turned sweet and sluggish as sap, and when she did manifest it was only to poke her head out and talk for a minute or two. Even that left her exhausted, but she could never resist the urge for long.

Fear kept convincing her that the next time she looked outside, she'd be alone. She never mentioned it out loud, but Blake started leaving a little pile of stones at the foot of her Heart whenever she had to go somewhere. By the time summer had baked the ground dry, Yang didn't have the energy to be suspicious. The rocks meant it was safe.

Time slipped by. It started slow, then picked up speed until whole months slipped through her fingers. She couldn't check on the outside world anymore. All her being was contained, dormant, in the steady green core of her Heart.

* * *

When Yang pulled herself together enough to manifest, she was greeted with a lush, blooming forest. The air was cool and misty, and the leaves were a vibrant yellow-green. Spring. Blake wasn't there, but the pile of stones was nestled between two roots. She relaxed and slipped back into dreams.

She started to feel like herself again in autumn. It wasn't the autumn she'd been dreading, the one leading up to the fateful winter. That one had passed. Her Heart had survived it, though she wasn't sure how until she saw it for herself.

The second winter started. Her Heart had already shed its leaves—she helped to regulate that, but it was usually wiser to let the trees handle it themselves. They had a better sense of when the weather would turn. She poked her head out one night, and everything was pitch black. No stars. In a sudden panic she thrust her arm out, and her fingers met canvas.

_It's a windbreak._

On the ground she found a thin layer of broken twigs piled around her Heart's roots, protecting them from some of the cold. All techniques Yang herself used when winter rolled around, if one of her charges was sick or injured.

She had to wait until spring came around again to ask how Blake had known any of that. She admitted, with more than a little embarrassment, that she'd done research at the library between visits. Then she froze.

"What?"

Blake flushed. "Well, um... I thought paper might be a touchy subject?"

Yang rolled her eyes. "As long as you don't chop any of my trees down, I'm not gonna make a fuss." _Especially since you probably saved my life._

Now that she was stronger, Yang noticed things she'd missed. Blake's clothes weren't new, but they also weren't bloodstained, so they couldn't be the ones she'd been wearing when she showed up. A curved longbow was propped up against a crude lean-to shelter made from deadfall. There was also a fire-pit, though it was ringed with a wall of stones and placed far away from any dry brush. Yang didn't complain, knowing how easily humans and faunus died without heat.

"You've been in town." She pointed at an iron skillet.

Blake nodded. "I did what I could out here, but I'm not that good at living off the land. Sometimes I had to spend a few weeks picking up odd jobs nearby, then come back with supplies. I always left stones, but I wasn't sure..."

"It's fine." Yang stepped out of the trunk, relishing the feeling of stretching her legs for the first time in over a _year._ She nudged a heap of canvas with her foot. "I'm guessing you didn't sew that yourself, so... can't complain."

Yang couldn't help herself. Over the next few weeks, she softened. She spent days fighting it, at first, trying to force herself to remember what had happened to her grove. Eventually, she gave up. It wasn't exactly forgiveness, but it was coexistence. Blake _had_ saved her life, and even if she endangered it again... Yang couldn't find it in herself to care.

One summer afternoon, she emerged from her Heart and found a pile of rocks instead of Blake. She returned to her tree and waited. Stuck her head out. Waited some more. By the next morning she was sitting there, cross-legged, not caring that she was wasting energy.

By the morning after that, she was sure she wouldn't be back. Blake had gone on other shopping trips, and some of them had lasted over a week—but never unannounced. Yang glared at the heap of rocks (or what was left of it after she'd kicked it over). Running off was one thing, but leaving a sign that she was going to be right back? Stripping away the feeling of safety it had given her in the long months she'd spent, barely coherent, knowing that sign meant that it would be okay?

 _If she ever comes back,_ Yang decided, _I'm going to punch her._ No more apologies and second chances.

When Blake came back with a pronounced limp and a bandage around one arm, all her righteous fury evaporated. "What—?"

"I'm so sorry!" She stumbled over a root and let out a pained hiss. "I was going to be back sooner, but I couldn't walk on it until this morning."

"Oh."

Yang swallowed a rush of guilt for assuming the worst and knelt down to look at Blake's ankle. It wasn't sprained like she'd assumed. There was a long, clean cut, like from a blade.

"I can't stay," Blake said, as she lowered herself to the forest floor.

"What?"

Blake stared into her lap. "I got away, but they recognized me. They might come back here if I don't leave."

Yang remembered the acrid smell of smoke, reaching into the trees she cared for and killing them in a vain attempt to save the others. She nodded.

"I'm sorry. I really thought—I don't know. I've been stupid. I shouldn't come back, but... I probably will anyway." She picked at a loose thread in her shirt. "If... if that's okay with you?"

She should say no.

"Yeah."

Apparently they were both idiots.

"I wanted to stay long enough to plant the new nuts, but..."

"Probably not a good idea."

"Right."

Yang stood up and plucked one from a nearby branch. There were only eleven of them, an even smaller crop than the one from two years ago, but she thought she might get at least one strong sapling out of all this. It would be good to be able to move around more.

"I'm sorry," Blake said again. "For... for before. I didn't realize it was so hard for you to make these."

"It usually isn't," Yang pointed out. "And... honestly, the seeds don't matter much in the long run. I'll need to grow more trees eventually, but a few years here or there isn't that important."

"Isn't it? You almost died with that tree, if there were more of them..."

Yang grinned. "That's not why I plant them. I... it's stupid, but I always wanted to be able to plant one up on that hill." She pointed. "I'm stuck in a valley, so I don't know what it looks like on the other side. I figured I could grow that way until I got to the top. Get a view, y'know?"

"Right." Blake glanced around. Yang could see the moment that she recognized the place where her old Heart used to be. It was closer to the hill. "Oh."

"Yeah." Yang tried for a grin. "One step forward..."

"I could bring one of these up there," Blake said suddenly, holding up the nut she'd been examining.

Yang stared at her. "What happened to you needing to leave?"

"It wouldn't take long. It's... the least I can do, really."

Yang squinted up at the distant hilltop. "I'm not sure if it would work," she said eventually. "I might have to plant it for it to be connected to me."

"Have you ever tried before?"

She shrugged. "Never been anyone else around."

"It's up to you," Blake said, "but... I think it's worth a try."

Yang frowned, thinking. Then, slowly, "Nah."

Blake looked stricken for a moment. Yang reached out and closed her hand over the nut.

"If we're gonna experiment," she said, smirking, "might as well really push the limits, yeah? Find a safe spot somewhere else. Somewhere far away."

That earned her a small smile. "Okay."

* * *

Life went on. There were other nuts to plant, and soon they were sending up little green shoots. They were such tiny, fragile things. Of the ten she'd kept with her, three made it through the first winter. And the other... she thought she could sense it, a faint pull from somewhere far away, but it might have been her imagination.

The saplings grew until they were taller than she was, when she was manifested. Her sense of the other sharpened, until she could almost picture it when she closed her eyes.

It took a long time for the three new additions to her grove to grow large enough for her to walk into them as she did her Heart. By then there were already six other saplings—all of them offspring of the newest generation. Her Heart was still struggling, so she had told it to stop producing nuts. New bark was growing over the scars left by the fire, leaving only odd bumps.

Yang stepped into her Heart, her whole body vibrating with nervous excitement. She was sure the fourth seedling had survived. It felt different than her other trees—like her connection with it had been stretched and stretched until it had gone thin—but it was there. It was hers, and she reached for it.

When she stepped out of the trunk, the air was warmer. She stood frozen for a long moment, staring open-mouthed at a different forest than the one she'd lived in all her life. It was everything she'd ever wanted. Terror gripped her. She reached for her Heart, and relaxed when she realized she could still feel it. It was just distant, like the new tree had been. Steeling herself, she took her first step onto new soil.

The trees around her were mostly birches, with their bark flaking away in curly pale sheets. A fox watched her with wide black eyes. Part of her, a stupid part that had somehow despite _everything_ expected Blake to be there, twinged painfully.

"Right," she said aloud, startling the fox. "I guess this makes us square." It did, it _really_ did. The sun was on its way up in this forest, not setting like it was in hers. She'd _moved,_ farther than any other dryad ever had.

She was left feeling strangely tense. Waiting for the gravity of the moment to hit her, for the soaring feeling she'd been expecting. Instead, there was the noise of the forest. Birds, insects. The fox sniffed at her curiously.

Yang heaved a sigh and turned to walk back into the tree. She stopped mid-stride, her foot poised over a small pile of stones. They were balanced between the new tree's roots, with larger rocks on top of smaller ones. Smiling, she sat cross-legged beside them. Waiting.


	5. 3a — Title: Melt It!

"I hear her mom's a thief!"

The speaker was a local boy, big for his age, with short brown hair and a permanent sneer. Yang had never bothered learning his name. Instead, she called him 'Pig,' after the way he snorted when he laughed. His indigo eyes glittered cruelly as he shoved her.

Yang stumbled backwards, but she didn't fall. She glared at him and said nothing.

"My uncle says she kills people," another boy added. His ridiculous mohawk bobbed up and down as he jabbed a finger at her.

The blue-haired boy behind her snickered, but his hands were shaking. "She's feral, that's what she is. She came from the forest and had a freak for a daughter." Yang growled at him, and for a second he was cowed—it helped that he was a few inches shorter than her. Then he remembered he wasn't alone and gave her a push towards one of the others.

The last boy just stood there, smirking. His eyes narrowed in a permanent squint, something Yang had used to taunt him back last week. That had been the only time he'd picked on her directly, and she'd learned that he was the strongest.

Fighting back was probably a bad idea—Yang wasn't stupid, she knew there were four of them and they'd win. But then one of them yanked her hair, and she stopped caring. When she whirled around, she noticed it was the idiot with the mohawk. Her fist connected with his jaw and he crumpled. The others made startled noises, but she'd already ducked through the space where he had been and bolted.

"Get her!" shouted Pig, but he was slow and she had a head start.

Yang relished the feeling of her boots pounding the sidewalk, the crunch of snow underfoot. It didn't take long for her to outdistance most of the boys.

Most. The blond one with the squint was keeping up. Yang was tempted to just fight him. Probably she'd win—her uncle had taught her a lot—but she wasn't sure. The bully knew how to fight too, and when you were both twelve being ten months older made a big difference. Even if she won, she'd come home bruised and he'd start the fight again tomorrow.

She veered off towards the woods instead. If she could jump the fence, she might lose him. If she made it to the trees, she _definitely_ would. She knew the forest better than all the other kids combined.

By the time Yang ran out of sidewalk and was slogging through the snow on the outskirts of town, he was almost on her. She scooped up a ball of snow and flung it. It hit him right in the face.

He swore at her as she reached the fence and climbed to the top. Yang laughed, made a rude gesture at him (she'd learned _that_ from her uncle, too), and dropped to the other side. She landed in a roll and popped to her feet, covered in melting snow. The boy went sulking back to his stupid friends.

"Eat that!" she whooped.

* * *

Yang soon left the fence behind. Her home was way off in the woods, so she'd have to cross all the fields outside of town to get there. Sometimes she wished she could have grown up in the town like a normal girl. She was an only child, so it got lonely without any friends, but her classmates were jerks anyway. Better to be alone than hang out with Pig and his cronies.

She kicked at the snow, enjoying the way it puffed up in little white clouds. Just as she looked up to see how far she had to go, she spotted a small figure standing in the middle of the field. When she got closer, she realized it wasn't a person like she'd thought—it was the sculpture of one, a young girl made of clear blue ice. Yang circled her, taking in the way every frill of her dress had been painstakingly carved. She poked the statue's cheek. It was smooth, and cold as ice. Obviously.

Her posture was bizarre. She was leaning forward, reaching out with her left hand as if to grab something out of the air. Her expression was somewhere between shock and panic, and more than a little creepy. Yang followed her gaze and found something half buried in the snow. Kneeling down, she picked up a silver looking crown. On a whim, she put it on the statue. It fit perfectly.

Yang circled around again, marveling at the carver's skill. They had even shaped each strand of hair, blowing in the breeze—

Wait. What?

She squinted at the sculpture's ponytail. She wasn't seeing things—there _were_ hairs moving. As soon as she noticed it, she realized that there was color leeching into the statue. Mostly the color white. This thing was _waking up._

"Um," she squeaked, as the girl's mouth twitched. The... melting, or whatever it was, accelerated until her dress flowed around her and her chest rose and fell, taking in the crisp winter air. She took a wobbly step, made a noise in the back of her throat, and tipped over.

Yang, acting on instincts she didn't even know she _had,_ reached out and caught her. It wasn't hard—she was strong for her age and size, and this girl would weigh maybe ninety pounds soaking wet.

The second the strange girl touched her arms, she flinched away as if burned. Shoving Yang hard in the gut, she sent both of them toppling into the snow.

Yang sat up and spat out snow and grass. "What was that for?"

The other girl had landed more gracefully, but her hair was full of snow. It wasn't melting. "You were manhandling me," she snapped.

Yang was tempted to call her an ingrate, a word she'd learned last week from her mother. Instead she got to her feet and reached out to help the girl up. "I'm Yang. What's your name?"

The ex-statue narrowed her eyes, staring at Yang's hand like it was covered in wasps. She got up on her own, folded her arms, and said, "Weiss."

"Nice to meet you." Yang did know how to be polite, whatever her teachers said.

"...Likewise."

"Are you a snowman?" She knew _how_ to be polite... she just didn't always see the point.

Weiss scowled at her.

"I mean, do you always hang around in fields, or...?"

"Do you always _poke_ people when you meet them?"

Yang flushed. "Hey, I didn't know you were alive!"

"Excuse me?!"

"Most statues don't start moving. How was I supposed to know _you_ would?"

"I—You— _Ugh."_

_I win._

"So, what are you doing here?" Yang asked, glancing around the empty field.

"None of your business!"

"Sorry. I just meant, um... maybe I could help?"

Weiss narrowed her eyes like she was trying to melt her with a glare—which would've been kind of ironic—then deflated.

"I'm... looking for my sister."

"What, is she missing?"

"No. Or, well... I don't know where she is, but she left on purpose."

"That sounds pretty missing to me."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "The point is, I need to find her. And to do _that_ I have to get home."

"Where's home?"

"The North Pole."

There was an awkward silence. Weiss fidgeted in place, and Yang went cross-eyed trying process what she'd just said. It went in through her ears just fine, but when she tried to make sense of it all she came up with was a polar bear in a knitted sweater.

"The North Pole," she repeated dumbly. "Like, with Santa—"

"Yes!" Weiss snapped. "Do you want to help me, or not?"

"And, like... elves?"

"Obviously."

"Right, duh. Except... they're not real?" Yang said hesitantly. Suddenly her third grade teacher didn't seem like such an expert. It probably had something to do with the ice sculpture coming to life.

Weiss crossed her arms and glared.

"But... really? The _North Pole?_ Like with polar bears and penguins and—"

"There aren't _penguins,_ you buffoon. Those live in Antarctica, on the _opposite side of the planet."_

Yang blinked. "Yeah, 'cause out of everything I just said, _that_ was the crazy part."

"Ugh!" Weiss threw her hands up, exasperated.

"So... you actually want to go to the North Pole."

"Yes."

That couldn't possibly work. They were both kids, there was no _way_ they could go to the ends of the earth without so much as a permission slip. Then again, the easiest way to find out...

"I'll go with you," she decided. "I mean, if you want me to."

Weiss stared at her. "You're serious."

"Yep!"

"Are all humans this impulsive?"

"Nah, I'm just that awesome!" Her grin wavered a bit under Weiss' incredulous stare.

"Well, I suppose I _am_ having some trouble navigating your human transportation."

"Need a ticket, huh?"

"Apparently." Weiss made a face. "I didn't know you had to pay, so... I just walked onto the ship."

"You were a _stowaway?_ I totally want to try that!"

"No! I was almost cornered by a pair of guards, and they kept shouting about giving me a rest." A horrified expression flashed across her face. "Did they mean rest, as in _dead?"_

Yang tried not to laugh—she really, really did. But it was a losing battle, and it wasn't like being bent double with a fist in her mouth was better, so she just went with it.

"Are you mocking me?!"

"Hah, no! I mean... heh, it's kind of funny."

"If you think near death experiences are _amusing,_ then—"

"They weren't going to attack you! They were police, they probably would've just called your parents or something."

"Called my _parents?!"_ Weiss yelped, like that was somehow even worse.

"Yeah, um... look, I can pay for the tickets," Yang said, "and I'll help you keep up with our human customs. Deal?"

"What do _you_ get out of this?"

"Adventure!" Yang spread her arms and struck a pose.

Weiss looked unconvinced.

"Okay... um..." Yang tried to think of what to ask for and had a flash of inspiration. "I want proof!"

"Excuse me?"

"I want to meet an elf. 'Cause... my parents and my teachers and pretty much _everyone_ at school keeps telling me they don't exist." Yang decided not to mention that she'd never believed in Santa when she was little—her mother had been quick to tell her he wasn't real, and there hadn't been any presents or a tree to put them under.

Weiss rolled her eyes. Yang, struck by a sudden mischievous urge—something that tended to give her teachers premature grey hairs—grabbed her by the wrist and sprinted off through the snow. She shrieked, dug in her heels, and yanked the hand away.

"What?" Yang called out playfully. "Don't you want to get going?"

"Don't touch me," Weiss snapped.

"Oh. Um... sorry."

They walked for almost ten minutes before Weiss broke the silence. "Where are we going, anyway? Is this north?"

Yang stopped, looked around, and grinned sheepishly. "Actually..."

A twitch began in Weiss' left eye. "You don't know, do you?"

"Nope!"

"What kind of guide doesn't know where they're going?!"

"I do too know where we're going!" she protested. "I just... haven't been walking in that direction."

"So _turn around."_

"Okay! To the train station!"

* * *

The station was where Yang had first arrived in Vale when she was five. She'd been so excited she'd jumped off the train while it was still moving and sprained her ankle. Since then she hadn't needed to go there much, but she'd always loved the place. It was probably the hustle and bustle, the way everyone was ready to _go_ somewhere and _do_ something. She was in her element here, ready to take on the world.

Weiss looked like she might throw up.

"Can we get on the train now?" she asked, glaring at a commuter that bumped her elbow as he walked by.

"First we have to find one that's going north," Yang said. "By... um... asking someone?"

"I'm starting to think I'd be better off on my own."

"Hey! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even know this place existed!"

"I suppose that's—" Weiss made an odd croaking sound in the back of her throat. "Look at that!" she said with false cheer, then reached out and dragged Yang bodily across the station. She glanced behind them frantically, then ducked her head as if to hide behind a magazine stand.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing!" She grabbed the nearest issue and buried her face in it. It was an architecture magazine, and probably dense enough to bend light. Yang tried to figure out what had scared her, but before she could Weiss took off again. She finally stopped a few minutes later, behind one of the waiting trains.

"What's going on?"

Weiss glanced warily over her shoulder and whispered, "It's the White Fang."

"Um... what's the White Fang?"

"My father's workers. At least... they used to be. They want—" She looked around again, leaned in closer, and tapped the crown on her head. "This."

"Why would they want your crown?"

"It's a _tiara,"_ Weiss snapped. "And why do you _think?_ It's a powerful artifact!"

"Well, _yeah."_ It was a bit dainty for Yang's taste, but she _had_ seen it breathe life into an ice statue. "It just seems like it's kinda... specific."

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "That's not _all_ it does."

"Okay... what else does it do? Wait, does it shoot lasers?!"

"What? No! It... well... um... I don't exactly _know,"_ she admitted. "But I heard my father talking about it, and he doesn't need it for the same reason I do."

"Why not?"

"He's not made of ice," Weiss said, as if that was obvious.

"Okay, sure." Thinking of the talk she'd had with her uncle, Yang wondered how that would even _work._ Then she violently derailed that train of thought. "What do we do about the guys that are after you, then? I mean, are they going to try to steal it?"

Weiss shifted uncomfortably. "They, um... they sort of want to kill me."

Holding her hands up and frantically making a time-out sign, Yang edged away from Weiss before she remembered she had her back to a wall. "Hang on. Whoa. I did _not_ sign up to fight _murderers!"_

"We aren't going to _fight_ them!" Weiss hissed. "Don't be idiotic."

Yang laughed. "Okay, sure. What do we do then, oh glorious leader?"

"We run. _Obviously._ And keep an eye out for them."

"What do they look like?"

"They wear white masks, with some red markings on them. And their leader..." Weiss winced. "Red hair, and horns on his head."

"Wha— _horns?"_

"Yes, now let's _go!"_

Yang had to jog to keep up as Weiss disappeared into the crowd. When she managed to catch up, she grabbed the other girl's hand and ignored her dirty look. The last thing she wanted was for them to get separated and fall into the clutches of some terrifying horned monster.

They walked like that for a while, with Yang doing her best to steer them towards the ticket sales booth. Then Weiss whispered, "They've seen us."

"What?" Yang scanned the faces of the crowd around them, but couldn't see anyone in a mask. "Where?" she murmured.

"Right behind us." Weiss tugged her forcefully around a corner. "Come on, we have to—"

"Schnee!"

Yang had been expecting a low, gravelly sort of voice. She only realized the high-pitched squeak was addressing them when Weiss pulled on her arm.

She still couldn't see them—mostly because she was looking for someone who was at least six feet tall. Her gaze panned down, and down... until it rested on a masked man. He had horns curving up from his spiky red hair, and that kind of fit the image Yang had of him. He was _also_ about three feet tall and shaped like a cherub—rounded cheeks, pointy ears, and everything.

 _He's actually kinda cute,_ she thought.

At least, he was until he drew a blood-red sword nearly as long as he was tall. A pair of bodyguards fanned out on either side of him. The one on the right was huge by comparison—he came up to about Yang's shoulder—and held a revving chainsaw. The one on his left was an unarmed thug who had decided to wear a pair of round glasses over his mask.

"Um..." Yang wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or scream. She glanced around, but the crowd of adults kept bustling around them like nothing was happening. No help there, then.

"What do you want?" Weiss asked haughtily. The hand Yang was holding was shaking.

"What's ours," the leader squeaked. "Freedom for our brothers and sisters!" He stepped forward, dragging the tip of his sword against the ground so that it screeched ominously. Then he pointed at Weiss' tiara. "Hand it over."

"No."

A wide, toothy smile crept across his face. "Good."

"Run!" Yang _really_ didn't need to be told twice. Or once. The biggest one charging at them with a chainsaw was enough for her to want to be _anywhere else._

They fled into the crowd. Weiss weaved back and forth between commuters at random, but the White Fang were gaining on them. If they were going to get away, they had to stop going in circles.

Before she could figure out how, the leader got ahead of them and blocked their way. She lost her grip on Weiss' wrist, and the second they were separated he cut her off. The other two were behind Yang. Chainsaw looked like he couldn't wait to slice her in half. Glasses had pulled a knife during the chase.

"Stop now, or I kill the human!" Horns leveled his sword at her kneecaps. Weiss hesitated, then turned around with her hands raised. Yang, for her part, couldn't look away from the red blade. It was easily the most intimidating thing about him.

"You're mine, now." A menacing grin spread across Horns' face as he spoke. His head wasn't turned so that Weiss could see it, probably because that would make holding Yang hostage kind of hard, but she figured he looked creepy in profile too.

"I won't give it to you."

He glared at her. "Then we'll just have to start removing limbs until—"

The second his head turned away from her, Yang took a running jump. One of her feet clipped his forehead. She stumbled when she landed, then sprinted into the crowd. Finally she spotted a sign for "An Exploration of the Great North," and made a beeline for it.

The departure time on the sign was just five minutes away. All she had to do was stall until she saw the doors closing, and then...

The train started to move.

"Oh, come on!" Yang pushed herself to run faster. A stout woman walked right into her path, pulling a rolling suitcase on behind her. She had two options. She could slow down and go around, or...

Yang sped up. Without stopping to think, she vaulted over the suitcase and hit the ground running, pulling a surprised Weiss behind her. Only the last few cars were left in the station, now. She realized all of a sudden that this, _this right here,_ was the coolest thing she had ever done.

Or it _was_ the coolest thing until she actually caught up to the train. Yang took a flying leap and latched onto a small railing. Her feet were swept out from underneath her. She hung from one hand, reached out with the other to grab Weiss. With a final heave, she dragged the pair of them up onto the floor of the car.

After that, she spent a long time lying on her back and feeling like a cooked noodle.

"That," Yang wheezed, "was... _awesome."_

"I'm glad _someone_ thinks so."

"Hey, I never signed up for this White Gang stuff."

"White _Fang."_

"Whatever!"

"It's not like I wanted them to chase me, either."

"Who exactly are they, anyway?" Yang asked. "I mean... they didn't look human."

"They're elves."

Yang felt her eye twitch. "Aren't elves supposed to be merry?"

"Most of them _are._ But they're... well, they're angry about their working conditions. My father said they couldn't have a union, so they made their own."

"Your father," Yang repeated. "He's in charge of the elves."

"Of course."

"Like... their boss."

"That _is_ what being in charge means."

"So, there's nobody above him."

"No! I've already told you twice!"

"Your dad is _Santa Claus?!"_ Yang shouted, leaping to her feet and jabbing an accusatory finger at Weiss. She nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"That's not his _name._ Just his job."

"But—but—why the heck did you leave home if you live with _Santa?!"_

Weiss flinched, then turned to stare out at the rolling landscape behind them. "He isn't like your stories. That was... someone else."

There was a thick, loaded silence, before she spoke up again. "Besides, I didn't _leave._ I just wanted to see what the south was like." She reached up and touched the tiara.

"Okay." Yang glanced at Weiss' headpiece. "Where'd you get that thing, anyway?"

"My sister."

"She gave it to you?"

Being as pale as Weiss was made for some pretty awesome blushes. "Not... exactly."

Cackling, Yang clapped her on the shoulder. "I can't believe you were a stowaway _and_ a thief this whole time!"

"I'm giving it back! I just... needed to go somewhere else for a while."

Yang stopped laughing and smiled warmly. "Me too." They sat together in comfortable silence until her teeth were chattering, then took shelter in one of the cars.

Most of their journey was spent starting out the window at the landscape—and, for a really memorable few hours, _oceanscape_ _._ Yang tried and failed to resist pressing her face against the glass. They started to snap at each other as it got later, then fell asleep on the floor of the car. They woke up when the train slowed to a halt.

Yang's heart swelled. This was it—the _real_ adventure!

* * *

The two of them soon emerged, squinting, into the freezing air. Yang was wearing her warmest winter coat and scarf, but she was already shivering. Weiss didn't seem to notice the cold, even though her legs were bare.

"So, w-where to now?" Yang tried to be cheerful, but the wind felt like it was blowing right through her.

"North."

"You suck, you know that?" Yang followed her anyway. The station disappeared behind them, and Weiss got tenser with every step.

"You okay?" Yang poked her shoulder. Weiss flinched, then glared at her.

"Stop doing that. I'm _trying_ to listen."

"Listen to what?"

Before Weiss could reply, there was a tinny shout and someone—some _thing—_ jumped out from behind a tumble of rocks. It was a real-life nutcracker, complete with the clacking jaw, bushy mustache, and a hat over two feet tall. It did _not_ look friendly.

"Oh..."

"Miss Schnee," the guard said, snapping a hand up in a stiff salute. "Come with us."

"Um..." Weiss backed up a step. "Of course! I just have an errand to run, if you'll excuse—"

"Now, please," added another voice. They whirled and saw two more nutcrackers coming up from behind them. A chill went down Yang's back—they had dolls' eyes, flat and dead.

"We will be taking that," the first nutcracker said, stretching out a wooden hand and pointing at the tiara. Weiss took off in a dead sprint.

Cursing, Yang tried to follow, but the snow slowed her down. "I hate the north!" she shouted, slipping and sliding down a low hill. At some point her legs got out from under her and she wiped out in a huge snowdrift. Weiss pulled her upright, glancing fearfully over her shoulder at the nutcrackers.

The two of them plowed on. Yang could feel the bottoms of her jeans getting damp and sticking to her calves. The cold seeped right down to her bones. Weiss grabbed her by her scarf and led her down a smaller path to the side of the main road. The steady crunching of snow changed into sharp cracking sounds. The pine trees disappeared, and they were running across windswept crags of pale blue ice.

In less than a minute, Weiss yanked her off-course again. And instead of just grabbing her hand like a normal person, she went for her scarf. _Again._ Yang made a pointed choking sound as she was led behind a massive ice boulder. For an instant, they were hidden from their pursuers—and Weiss vanished. Yang was worried she'd lost the tiara again and blended into the background, until a slim hand tapped her boot. Weiss had slid into a crevasse that cut through the glacier, and was now staring up at her impatiently. "This way, before they see."

She jumped down without a moments' hesitation, and soon they were walking in the dark down a tunnel that was even colder than outside, which Yang hadn't thought was possible.

"This is the passage I took when I left," Weiss whispered.

"Did you at least have a flashlight or something?" Yang asked, as she tripped over a snag in the floor for what felt like the hundredth time.

"It's not that far." That wasn't really an answer, but the air was finally getting warmer and Yang decided not to complain. Eventually the tunnel ended in what looked a lot like a broom closet.

"Really?" she said, amused. "Your secret tunnel leads to a—"

"It was built a long time ago, _okay?"_

"Back when secret passages were all the rage?"

Weiss glared at her. Then she opened the door, which shut Yang up immediately. She'd always imagined the north pole as a homey log-cabin that smelled like fresh-baked cookies. This was nothing like that. It was a _castle—_ a pristine, airy castle that smelled like the inside of a freezer. It was cold, too, though not as bad as outside.

"This is your house?"

"Yes," Weiss whispered back. "Keep your voice down. We have to find—"

There was a polite cough from around the corner. Weiss pulled her behind a nearby suit of armor. Yang tried to follow, but there wasn't enough room for both of them. A lone figure walked past them and stopped, peering intently at them over a tray of tea and cookies. He was tall and willowy, with oiled blond hair and a metal wind-up key sticking out of his back.

"Miss Schnee?" Weiss winced, then stepped out of hiding. A placid smile spread across his face as he put down the tray and saluted. "How might I be of service?"

"I need to find Winter." The footman made an apologetic noise.

"Unfortunately, Miss Schnee is not on the premises at the moment. She may return soon, if you would like me to take a message—"

"No!" Weiss blurted. "No, thank you."

The servant bowed so low his nose almost touched the floor. "Of course." His unctuous smile was getting creepy.

Weiss seemed to agree—she backed up and glanced around. Wooden footsteps could be heard. Within seconds, they were surrounded by more nutcrackers, each standing to attention. Yang slipped between a pair of them, dragging Weiss behind her.

They ran, and at first it seemed like Weiss was taking turns at random, just like at the train station. Then she lost half the guards by leading them down a narrow hallway ending in a staircase and sliding down the banister. But half the group of nutcrackers still left them with four to deal with, and they were fast when they weren't bogged down by snow. Three of them backed Yang into corner and leered down at her. Well, they weren't _leering—_ they were staring at her with the same blank expression they always wore, which was worse.

One of them tried to grab her and stumbled when Weiss shoved it. While it was off-balance, Yang kicked it in the shin as hard as she could. As it fell, it made a final grab for Weiss—and snagged the tiara. A bewildered look froze on her face. She was leaning forward, both arms outstretched, and started to tip over. Yang caught her before she could hit the ground and bolted for the nearest door. It was barely half as tall as she was, but the nutcrackers moved to block her, and that meant it was an escape route. Plus it was only about six feet away, which was important since she was dragging a delicate statue that now weighed more than she did. While being chased. Yang threw it open just as the guards caught up to her and sprinted through.

When the ground disappeared from under her, she realized she might have made a mistake. Her stomach flipped as she slid down a narrow chute. She did her best to cushion the Weissicle with her body as they slammed against the walls, because bruises would heal and being shattered into a million bits probably wouldn't.

They landed painfully (for Yang, at least) in a scrap heap. She'd managed not to smash her head or her passenger, and soon struggled to her feet. Loud thumps and clangs came from the chute, and with a surge of panicked energy she dragged Weiss behind a mountain of trash and pulled a frayed blanket over her.

She turned around, and suddenly she was staring directly into the lifeless button eyes of a scruffy teddy bear. Yang had to stuff a hand in her own mouth to muffle first one scream, then another when she realized the bear was _moving._ It cocked its head and waved an arm at her. She had no idea what else to do, so she waved back. Apparently it decided she was friendly, or at least that it wasn't in the mood to go full Chuckie, because it sat down and put its stubby hands in its lap.

As stealthily as she could, Yang circled back around the trash pile to take a peek at the guards. They were spreading out, and she could see the silver tiara in the hands of the nearest one. She gathered her courage and snuck up behind it. As soon as she was close enough, she jumped on its back and snatched the headpiece. It stumbled. She hopped off and landed in a crouch, clutching the precious artifact in both hands. The nutcracker had already raised the alarm, and two more of them were running toward her. When she tried to dodge past them she felt a wooden hand close around her arm.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the teddy bear from before standing on a broken toy box, staring at her. She rolled the tiara towards it. It landed in a pile of junk with a muted clink, while Yang blocked the guards' view of it with her body.

"No!" she shouted, putting a hand to her forehead. "I need to put that _tiara_ on the _ice statue!"_

The nutcracker hefted her into the air, then grunted in surprise when it realized she wasn't holding the diadem. "Ha! You think you can find it? I threw it as hard as I could, that way!" She pointed dramatically in the opposite direction.

The guards weren't _quite_ as dumb as they looked. They searched the area, but when they didn't find it right away the leader gestured for them to stop. "Bring her in, we'll find Miss Schnee and the artifact later." It lifted Yang easily, even though she kept kicking it in the chest. It bore the abuse with a long-suffering sigh.

Behind them, a fuzzy head poked up from behind a broken tea set. Yang really hoped it was smart enough to understand what she'd just asked.

...And that it wasn't as murderous as it looked.


	6. 3b — Training in the Academy

Her eyes were closed—that was the worst thing. She couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything. Panic welled up in her, but she had no pulse to speed up. No breath to cry out. All she could do was listen as Yang was dragged away, and along with her the only chance she had of getting free again.

Then she felt weight on top of her head, an electric thrill that traveled all the way down to the tips of her toes. Her heartbeat started back up. Her lungs expanded, and her hands clenched into fists. Her eyes snapped open.

Scant millimeters away, a pair of green button eyes stared directly into her soul. Weiss shrieked and slapped the creature off of her. A small teddy bear fell limply to the ground. It pushed itself back to its feet with a pair of fuzzy stub arms and looked up at her in mute betrayal.

"I don't... _what?"_

The bear tugged on her ankle with its tiny arms. Weiss barely felt it, but she took its meaning and followed it as it walked away, swaying drunkenly. Its stomach had probably been white once, but there wasn't enough bleach in the world to remove all the stains. A few emerald green threads poked out of its chest, where something circular had been embroidered. Between its ears sat a tattered pink bow.

"Where are we going?" The bear pointed up ahead. Well, sort of—it didn't have any fingers, so all it could do wave in a vague general direction. Which it did, so enthusiastically that it almost tipped over. Weiss followed its arm and spotted a steel chute guarded by one of her father's nutcrackers. She hid behind a wooden rocking horse and turned to the teddy.

"Where's Yang?" It pointed at the chute again. A cold feeling settled in Weiss' gut. This was _not_ part of the plan.

"I need to get her out of there." Father didn't like when humans came this far north, and she had no idea what he might do. She had to get back into the manor and find Yang. He should let her leave if Weiss gave him the tiara. Then... well, she'd have to face the consequences of running off.

The teddy hugged her ankle, staring up at her with its wide button eyes as if it could read her thoughts. Weiss scoffed—it wasn't _that_ sad. She'd seen more of the world in the past two weeks than she ever had before. It was a taste, and it would have to be enough.

It took a poke from the teddy for Weiss to stop wishing and start _planning._ She needed some way to get the guard to leave his post...

_Ah._

Smirking to herself, she dug through the nearest trash heap. It wasn't as horrible as she'd expected. There was nothing organic to be seen—or _smelled,_ thankfully—all she found was an astonishing amount of broken toys. There was the blanket she'd been hidden under, a bicycle that was rusted through, and dozens of old stuffed animals. Weiss kept looking over her shoulder in case they started moving. They didn't, but that was somehow worse.

At last her eyes landed on a box of glass ornaments. Grabbing one of the few unbroken ones, she hefted it twice in her hand and hurled it as far as she could. It sailed over several piles of odds and ends and shattered. Weiss crouched down behind an empty dollhouse. The teddy clung nervously to the hem of her dress, now that it could reach it. They watched as the guard looked up sharply, then wandered off to investigate.

Weiss stood up again. "I'll get Yang out. If you can find her, will you help her get back to the train station?"

The teddy looked up at her in what seemed like awe. Straightening up as if it had an iron rod in its fuzzy little spine, it snapped off a perfect military salute. Weiss waved goodbye and sprinted towards the chute.

* * *

Climbing it turned out to be harder than she'd thought. It was segmented, so there were little metal seams she could use as handholds, but that only meant it wasn't _impossible._ The endeavor involved a lot more slipping and falling and catching herself at the last minute than Weiss was comfortable with, and it wasn't quiet. Part of her pitied whichever poor guard had carried an uncooperative prisoner up this deathtrap.

Weiss spent a lot of time shuffling around in near-total darkness and cursing whoever had built this rickety mess of an entrance (while firmly rejecting the possibility that it was never meant to be anything but a waste disposal chute, and had been designed accordingly). Then, finally, she emerged in one of the manor's hallways.

Her outfit blended almost perfectly with the walls as she crept around a corner. She could hear voices. Probably elves, judging by their coarse tones. Weiss stopped to press her ear against a nearby door.

"...another hundred dolls by tomorrow," said one voice, deep and thick as mud. "There's been news of unrest in the southeast, he says we need backup inventory in case we lose another train."

"She came back just for that?" asked another, this one more oily. "I thought they had a falling out."

"We're not supposed to talk about it."

There were a few seconds of tense silence, and Weiss moved away. She wasn't some sort of spy—she had a human to find. Which turned out to be much easier than Weiss had expected.

 _"Inconceivable!"_ someone shouted. Weiss guessed that it was coming from the main auditorium and turned a few corners. "Completely ridiculous, outlandish, never in all my years!"

"I'm really sorry," said a second voice, flatly and without remorse. "I totally learned my lesson and I'll never do it again." Weiss peered past a curtain and onto the stage.

The auditorium was as enormous as she remembered, with high vaulted ceilings and a polished marble floor that seemed to stretch on forever. Against the far wall, her father's throne loomed like a great white ghost. She could just make out two figures lurking in the shadows beside it.

In the center of the room, the afternoon sunshine slanted in through a skylight and reflected off a massive suit of armor. Yang dangled by her hood from one gauntleted hand, looking like a doll by comparison. She kicked her legs lethargically, less like she was trying to escape and more like she was bored of being held up and wanted to entertain herself by swinging back and forth.

"I cannot believe a _human_ could have the _gall,_ the sheer _temerity_ to enter this sacred palace!" The Paladin was so overcome that it started pacing back and forth. Yang crossed her arms mid-air.

"I told you," she whined, "I got lost! Aren't you people supposed to _like_ kids?"

The Paladin stopped short and glared at her through its visor. "You people? What exactly do you mean by _you people?"_

"We're in Santa's workshop!" She flailed her feet, like some kind of bizarre punctuation. "Your job is making Christmas toys! Why would you do that if you don't like kids?"

"A magnificent health plan," the Paladin replied. "And dental."

"You have teeth?" Yang poked a finger into its visor. It flicked her on the forehead, and her cheeks puffed up in indignation. Weiss decided that was her cue to intervene—the Paladin had always been patient with her when she was a child, and she'd certainly been difficult, but if anyone could irritate it to the point of violence...

"Halt!" she called out as she emerged from behind the curtain. "Let her go!" It seemed like the thing to say—she couldn't waste an opportunity like this with a bad entrance.

Yang started struggling in earnest, though Weiss doubted anything would come of it except a ripped jacket and the dubious honor of being put in a headlock by one of the most powerful beings in the north pole.

"Miss Schnee," the Paladin greeted her solemnly. "I am glad to see you safely returned."

"Put me down!" Yang's sneaker, still wet from the snow outside, squeaked loudly when she kicked its helmet.

"Is this... _thing..._ yours?" It held Yang out like she was a particularly vile sock it had picked up off the floor. She took exception to this and started taking off her jacket in midair. When she finally squirmed free, it grabbed her by the ankle and let her swing herself upside-down.

 _"She_ is my friend," Weiss explained.

"You... have a friend."

Weiss stamped her foot and huffed. "I can have friends!"

The Paladin looked from Yang, who was now trying to reach her feet so she could undo her bootlaces—with her tongue poking out, of _course—_ to Weiss. Then back. "Are you _certain?"_

"Yes!" Weiss and Yang snapped in unison, both turning bright scarlet—Weiss out of embarrassment, and Yang because she'd been upside down for too long.

It shrugged. Yang groaned as the motion swung her back and forth. "I suppose there are worse humans."

"Put her down!"

"Certainly, Miss Schnee... but I'll be needing _that_ back, first." It jabbed a metal finger at the top of her head.

"Oh." Weiss reached up and touched the tiara. "Of... of course." She'd known since the scrapyard that she probably wouldn't be able to return it to Winter. It was just... different now that she was actually doing it, that was all.

"What?" Yang wriggled in the Paladin's iron grip. "No! You can't do that!" Her voice broke with rage and frustration. There was an odd shimmer around her, like the air just over a fire—a trick of the light?

"Can't," the Paladin mused. "An interesting choice of words, considering your circumstances."

"Don't be rude!" Weiss snapped. It shifted its weight from foot to foot, looking chagrined. She turned to Yang. "And this is _my_ decision, remember."

"But without it you'll turn to ice! You don't need to do that! Just run, I can find a way out on my own!"

"I _live_ here, remember," Weiss pointed out. "It's not as if I could stay in the South forever."

Squaring her jaw and drawing herself up to her full height—not that the twelve-foot-tall behemoth would be intimidated by that—Weiss strode towards the throne that stood brooding against the far wall. On its left side Whitley and her mother stood motionless, staring at nothing. She took a shaky breath. Once she was in her place at the right of her Father's seat, beside the empty spot where her sister had been, she faced the room and stepped into a perfect curtsy.

She held the position as the Paladin approached her. It cocked its helmeted head, giving her an inscrutable look from behind its visor. When she was very small, Weiss had wondered who was in that armor—what gender they were, what they looked like. The older she'd grown, the more certain she had become that there was nothing inside at all. It leaned forward and plucked the tiara from her head. A familiar feeling seeped into her veins, numbing her. She blinked once, quickly, making sure her eyes were open when her face froze solid. A second too late, she realized she'd forgotten to smile.

Yang's eyes went wide with horror. If she could have, Weiss might have snapped at her—there was no reason to look at her like that. It wasn't that sad—she'd enjoyed seeing more of the world, but now it was time to go home.

The Paladin did as it had promised and set Yang gently on the floor. Weiss had never entertained the thought of it double-crossing her—it simply wasn't in the construct's nature. Loyal to the bone, or maybe a better word would be _obedient._

When Yang tried to run to the throne, the Paladin put a hand in front of her to block her way. She vaulted over its arm. It grabbed her by the back of her shirt and hoisted her into the air. It looked annoyed, but it put her down again—this time farther away from Weiss.

"Please vacate the premises," it said curtly. "You _do_ have some means of returning home, I hope?"

"I'm not going anywhere!"

Two guards approached from behind her, picked her up by the shoulders, and dragged her towards the door. She struggled and squirmed in their grip. Her arm got free for a moment, and she socked one of them right in the eye. It made an indignant chattering sound. Weiss wished she could tell Yang to leave the poor guards alone—they were only doing their jobs.

"Hey!" she howled, kicking and biting at both guards. "Put me _down!"_

"There's no reason to get so worked up about this," the Paladin said. "Go home, human."

"No!" Smoke curled up from her hair. Weiss' eyes would have widened if they could.

"Why on earth _not?"_

"Because she's my friend!" Yang shouted defiantly—and burst into flame. Her hair turned the same shade of gold as the heart of a fire, and it flowed behind her like the tail of a comet. Her eyes burned red.

Both guards let go of her instantly and backed away. Yang looked at her hands as if she was seeing them for the first time. Then she clenched her fists and glared at the Paladin. It stepped protectively in front of Weiss and drew its sword, but she dodged around its legs and sprinted towards the throne.

Weiss tried to turn and run, to back away, even just to gasp, but she couldn't move. She braced herself for the blistering heat as Yang grabbed her arm. It didn't come.

Yang's hand was pleasantly warm. Weiss could feel the softness of her skin as it closed around her wrist. She shouldn't be able to—her whole body had gone numb. Slowly, she felt the muscles in her arm relax. The ice melted and slid off her, evaporating into wisps of steam. She stumbled, then caught herself on the human's still-burning shoulder. For a moment, all she could do was gape in wonder at the fire playing across her skin. It felt like she'd imagined a Southern summer would, warming her right to her bones.

The diadem sat in the Paladin's palm as it stared at them. When it realized Weiss was not only uninjured but _moving,_ and made of real flesh and blood, it lowered its sword in astonishment. Seeing an opportunity, Weiss rushed past it while it was still in shock. She didn't let go of Yang's hand, partly because it was a convenient way to make sure she didn't dawdle and partly because she was worried she'd freeze again if she did.

The wooden guards decided that even their exorbitant paychecks weren't worth going near the girl on fire. They backed away, giving the two of them a wide berth as Yang approached. Behind them, the Paladin swung its sword. The sheer force of the blow carved a crater in the floor, and a nearby nutcracker toppled over as the ground shook. Yang tripped, which meant that Weiss stumbled too, and they both landed into a graceless heap.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Weiss heaved Yang off the floor and dragged her bodily across the room with strength she hadn't known she possessed. If they could just get out of the ballroom, they would be safe. The Paladin wasn't as slow as it looked, but it _was_ enormous, and Weiss had never seen it leave the room. She 'd always suspected the door wasn't wide enough for its shoulders to pass through.

As they crossed the threshold, the human turned halfway around and shouted, "Sorry! Hope you don't get _fired!"_ And, of _course,_ she started cackling.

The Paladin called indignantly after them to, "Get back here, you miscreants!" but Weiss had been right about the door. It was stuck. She wondered how it had gotten in there in the first place—was the room built around it? Did it _grow?_ The implications of _that_ weren't something she wanted to think about right then. Or ever.

"Let's get out of here," she panted. The taste of free air was intoxicating. Slowly, cautiously, she removed her wrist from Yang's grip. Nothing happened—she really _was..._ what? Human? Or just built of the same stuff?

Weiss giggled, and Yang raised an eyebrow at her. She coughed and pointed down the hall. "There's an exit that way." She tried to school her expression into something a little more dignified. She kept wiggling her toes—no one could see that, anyway.

They slowed to a walk as they went, and Yang eventually stopped burning. After that, Weiss stuck to back hallways and kept a furtive eye out. She wasn't sure the guards would leave them alone now that the fire was gone.

Weiss wasn't sure if it was luck, or if Yang had scared them worse than she'd thought, but for a long time they didn't run into anyone. As they got closer and closer to the exit, she relaxed by degrees. In her mind, she was safe—they'd already made it past the Paladin, and they were a long way from Father's office.

Then, as she rounded the last corner before the exit, she skidded to a terrified halt. Winter was standing in the middle of the corridor, one hand on her sword. For an instant Weiss dared to hope that she hadn't heard them. But then she turned, and there was nowhere to hide. Steely-blue eyes flickered over the pair of them, evaluating them, until she was finally satisfied. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She tilted her head in the direction of the door, and stepped aside.

Releasing a breath she hadn't known she was holding, Weiss dipped into a curtsy made sloppy by haste, then dashed past her and out into the open air. The last glimpse she caught of her sister was of her watching them leave, still with that odd smirk on her face. She raised a hand in farewell.

The side door slammed shut behind them. Weiss made it about twenty feet before she collapsed, hyperventilating and wincing as the snow touched her bare knees. She had escaped her Father, she was truly _cold_ for the first time, her sister approved and she was _never, ever_ doing anything this stressful _again._

Yang poked her shoulder. "Are you okay?" It came out a bit muffled since her teeth were chattering. Weiss could finally empathize.

"I think so." She made a fist, watched her nails dig into her palm. It was a real, flesh-and-blood human hand. She'd had one when she was wearing the diadem... but that had been something she'd borrowed. _S_ _tolen._ This was hers.

"Yes," she decided. "I feel... good."


	7. 4a — Barking, Baying, Biting

It was a dark and stormy night.

Blake had read that line dozens of times by now, and she always rolled her eyes. Bad things didn't happen when there was lightning flashing, they happened when the weather was fine enough for protests, sit-ins, and raids. They happened when you weren't expecting them, reared up out of nowhere right when you felt safest.

So she didn't associate dark and stormy nights with ill fortune, but that didn't mean she _liked_ them. Not when it was raining as if the clouds were being wrung out like wet rags, and she was wearing tights. Cold, clammy, waterlogged tights.

Ruby, who _lived_ for dark and stormy nights, was bouncing around with the kind of unrestrained enthusiasm that was always either endearing or annoying. Since Blake suspected the thick, soft, warm-looking cloak draped over her shoulders was why she was so peppy, she was leaning towards annoying.

"That's it," Blake snarled, as a rivulet of frigid rain trickled between her shoulder blades. "Forget the mission. We need to find somewhere to wait out the storm."

"Forget the mission?!" Ruby was incredulous. "We can't do that!"

"If we keep going, _I_ am going to freeze out here and _you_ are going to have to deal with that nest on your own."

Her leader shot an agonized glance toward the woods. "Ruby. It's population control. There aren't even any towns nearby. This is as far from time-sensitive as we can get."

"...Fine." She folded her arms. "But you owe me some Beowolves."

* * *

Blake had hoped they would find a cave, or maybe huddle under the roots of a fallen tree. She hadn't expected anything as luxurious as an abandoned cabin, and she definitely hadn't thought they would find an actual, honest-to-gods _mansion._

"Whoa," Ruby breathed, reverently. Blake craned her neck upward to admire the sweeping roof, tiled in a soothing forest green and looking no less graceful for the ivy that hung from it. Then she glanced down to where a set of wooden double-doors, both a rich mahogany, stood invitingly between rows of topiaries. They were so overgrown it was hard to tell what they were meant to be, but she could make out vague, four-legged shapes.

It was an impressive building that had obviously been abandoned for a while. Not that long, since none of the walls were crumbling and the roof looked sound, but Blake suspected that no one had lived there for at least a few years. Cautiously—because no people didn't always mean no Grimm—she approached the door and examined a pair of finely-wrought bronze knockers. They were shaped like wolf's heads, each with a pair of brilliant emerald eyes.

Blake grasped one and knocked twice. She'd meant to do it three times, but had let go when the heavy ring grew strangely warm. She wasn't surprised when no one answered. On a whim she pulled on one of the doors, expecting it to be locked. It didn't make so much as a whisper as it slid open, and she was so startled she nearly fell over.

"Should we go in?"

"You're the leader," Blake pointed out

Ruby tugged the doors the rest of the way open. Light flooded inside, revealing an elegant black-and-white tiled floor and fluted columns that swept upwards toward the ceiling. Above them was a skylight, but it was so overgrown with ivy and the storm outside blotted out so much of the sun that it may as well have been boarded up.

Blake loosened Gambol Shroud in its sheath. Beside her, Ruby transformed her scythe into a more compact form in case they had to walk down narrow hallways. Neither spoke as they entered the room, both too busy gaping at the tapestries hanging from the walls. They were moldy and moth-eaten, but strangely captivating. Blake thought she could make out a wolf like the knockers on the door, though most of its outline was lost to decay.

"I wonder who built this," Ruby murmured. She turned slowly in place, eyes roving over the walls as she took it all in.

"It doesn't make sense." Blake frowned at a marble bust tucked into an alcove. Its face had been worn into a smooth, unbroken canvas. "Why put this in the middle of Grimm infested woods? Anyone who lived here would have a few weeks at most before they were overrun."

"Maybe there used to be more? Like a wall and a town, or something?"

"Why would the Grimm destroy that, and not this place?"

Ruby gave her a half-defeated, half-exasperated look, as if to say, _'_ _I don't know, why are you asking me?'_

The shadows grew thicker the deeper into the room they went. Blake doubted Ruby could see a thing. Just as she was about to give up on exploring and wait out the rain nearer the entrance, she caught a glimmer of light. When she approached she realized there was a doorway hidden in a patch of gloom so oppressive even she hadn't noticed it at first.

"Blake? Where are you going?"

"There's light." As she turned a corner, Blake saw it was coming from a candle sitting on a wooden table, burning merrily and impossibly. Ruby yelped as she tried to follow and bumped into the wall.

Blake squinted at the candle—it had burned about halfway down, and wax was dripping onto the table. "This must have been lit within the past few hours. There's someone living here."

"We need to find them. This forest is full of Grimm, and if they're alone..." Ruby trailed off, but nothing more needed to be said. They'd die out here, and not a single other person would notice

Blake took the lead—more candles had been placed in strategic nooks, so it wasn't totally dark inside, but the spaces between them were heavily shadowed and Ruby kept tripping over chairs. She ducked through the first door in the hall and found a room that was just as disused and dusty as the rest of the house. A veil of cobwebs hung forlornly in the upper-left corner, and a moth-eaten rug lay in the middle of the room like a dead thing. On the opposite wall was another door.

"This place is huge," Ruby whispered.

"I wonder who built it." Blake frowned at the wallpaper—it was cracked and peeling, but the few moldy shadows she could make out were full of vivid geometric patterns that must have been beautiful once.

They took the door on the other side of the room and emerged between two massive bookshelves. Blake glanced over her shoulder, raising her eyebrow incredulously. Had they just come through a lobby? Someone had actually been pretentious enough to build a _lobby_ for their personal library?

Despite her amusement, and the fact that the books smelled like mold and decay instead of paper and ink, she couldn't help feeling soothed by their surroundings. It was instinctive. Forgetting herself for a moment, she wandered over and ran a finger along one of their spines. A thick layer of dust flaked off and fell to the floor, and she frowned at the inscription. It wasn't in any language she recognized. The pages were rotted to the point of illegibility.

They backtracked into the hallway and walked through the second door. This had been a music room—a grand piano was moldering away in one corner, and when Blake examined a few torn sheets of paper that were scattered across the floor, she found they were covered in musical notation. She couldn't read any of it, but she did notice that some of the notes had been scratched out with such force that the paper had torn.

The third door in the hallway led to a dusty storeroom.

The fourth opened on a staircase. Ruby started trotting down without a second thought, and after a moment's hesitation Blake followed. Their footsteps echoed. They emerged into another hallway, though this one had the smell and thick silence of a crypt. An artfully sculpted bronze brazier sat at the opposite end of the corridor, burning without making a sound.

"Maybe whoever lit the candles lives here," Blake said—partly to make sure she hadn't gone deaf.

"Why'd they let it get so run-down, then?" Ruby prodded at a tapestry hung on the wall. It was so frayed that there was nothing left of its original design. Parts of it looked like they'd been burned.

"One person couldn't do the upkeep for a whole castle by themselves." Blake strode down the hallway and tried the first door on the right. It must have been a bedroom, though she wouldn't want to touch the mattress with a ten foot pole for fear of being eaten by bedbugs.

Ruby didn't follow—instead, she poked her head inside the room across the hall. "I guess so." As she shut the door behind her, Blake caught a glimpse of wooden crates and barrels. Another storeroom.

There was only one door left, at the far end of the hall near the brazier. Blake tugged on the knob. It didn't budge. She frowned, fishing around in the inner lining of her vest for a pair of lockpicks.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"Picking the lock." Blake's tongue poked out as she prodded at the tumblers—she blamed overexposure to Ruby and Yang. It cracked in under a minute, which wasn't much of a surprise since it was one of those old-fashioned ones that had keyholes big enough to peek through. Shoving open the door, she came face to face with another library and had to stifle a gasp.

Where the first library had been ravaged by time and the elements, this one had been torn apart with malicious intent. Bookshelves were overturned, scattering dozens of volumes across the floor in sad little piles that Blake immediately wanted to rescue. Shredded paper was everywhere, and the whole room was splattered with thick black ink. Some of the books were soaked in it, oozing dark stains across their shelves as they bled.

"Who..." Blake choked on the word, overwhelmed by the sheer _violence_ that had been inflicted on this place. She knelt down and ran a finger reverently along the spine of one of the stained books. Even its title had been blacked out. She tried to flip through it, but most of the pages were glued together by the ink.

"Over here," Ruby called out, from somewhere further in the stacks. Blake found her staring at another row of shelves. Here, ink was spattered across the walls and had pooled on the floor, but the books themselves were untouched. Ruby grabbed one at random. It fell open in her hand and she dropped it with a yelp.

"What's wrong?" Blake stepped over and stared down at the page. Even upside-down, the illustration made her ill—a mangled corpse covered in strange angular symbols that looked like they'd been _branded_ on, reaching out in entreaty, with wide glassy eyes that seemed to follow her. She kicked the book shut—normally she wouldn't even think of doing something like that, books were _sacred,_ but this one...

"Um... all in favor of moving on?"

"Aye," Blake said immediately. She'd never wanted to leave a library as much as she did right now. But they both decided to make one last circuit around the room before they left, to make sure there weren't any other rooms on the far side. There weren't—just another tapestry. This one had _definitely_ been burned, and ink had been thrown across it as well. Great spatters trailed up and down either side, but there was still one spot where its original colors shone through.

Blake squinted at the fabric. It was a poisonous shade of green, bright and saturated and nauseating. It was also... off. She took a step back, eyeing the tapestry. It was almost centered, _almost,_ but she noticed that it was hanging from a bronze rod and that the left-hand side was bunched up. As if it had been drawn hastily across, like a curtain.

"I think there's a door here," she murmured.

"So... do you want to move it?"

Blake really, really didn't. She was reluctant to even touch it, but she grit her teeth and grabbed a handful of cloth and heaved. Flakes of dried ink and ash came off on her fingers, staining the inside of her hand. Behind the tapestry was a blank wall.

"Ooh, I know this one!" Ruby knocked, moving her hand from side to side. Thunk. Thunk. _Boom._ "Bingo!"

They found a seam, then a keyhole. Blake tried to pick the lock and found that the tumblers kept slipping even when she applied as much torque as she could. Eventually she gave up and moved aside, and Ruby used her scythe to cut through the lock. The door swung inward when they pushed, revealing a room about the size of a walk-in closet.

If the library had been destroyed, this place had been _ravaged._ There was no ink, but great black scorch marks climbed all the way up to the ceiling. Chunks of plaster had been torn from the walls and scattered across the floor, and there were tools lying everywhere, or rather _parts_ of tools—the deformed head of a sledgehammer, a metal wedge that was probably once part of a hatchet, melted scraps of plastic. Against the wall was a pile of charred splinters, maybe the remains of a desk, and a claw hammer made of stainless steel whose head had been dented. And there, in a pile of ashes, a glint of color.

Ruby bent down and shifted through the mess, then straightened up with a simple charm in her hand. It was a wolf's head carved from jade, slightly smudged by the ash but otherwise unharmed. There was a hole where a length of rope had looped through it, but that had been burned away.

She frowned at it, turning it over in her hand. "Okay. This is cool and all, but... it's not a person."

"There are still plenty of doors we haven't checked," Blake reminded her. "Let's just go back."

Ruby ran her thumb across the snarling face of the jade wolf, then slipped it into her pocket.

* * *

They backtracked through the hallways, still lit sporadically by dim candles. Blake stared at one of them, wondering how long they'd been in the library. The wax had hardly melted at all.

"I guess we start trying doors?" Ruby suggested, pulling one open. Blake peered inside and saw three shovels propped up beside the door. Rows upon rows of shelves lined the walls, all packed with a wide mix of junk and treasure. Jewelry shared space with rotten old tunics and rusted belt buckles, and precious gemstones sat atop yellowed scraps of paper that were completely blank. Blake even spotted a coil of rope that looked like it was made out of hair— _human_ hair?

She backed up, giving the room a wary look. "This wasn't here before."

"We must've skipped it. Or... did we take a wrong turn?"

They doubled back on their backtracking. Somehow they'd missed a hallway that forked off the one they were in now. Ruby skidded to a stop, turning her head to look from one side to the other.

"Uh..." She looked over at Blake, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry, my sense of direction is, uh... don't _laugh,_ okay! I just... don't know which way."

"I don't either."

The awkward smile vanished. "Oh. Okay, that's... not great."

Blake went stock still, then slowly reached up and undid her bow. The sound she'd been hearing, so faint that it had just barely tickled at her senses, sharpened. It was barking.

"We need to go," she decided.

"Well, yeah, but first we gotta figure out _where."_

"No, I mean... we need to go back. Stop exploring. Something isn't right."

Ruby stared at her, baffled. "Are you feeling okay? You look kinda pale."

"There's something barking."

"Maybe that's them!" Ruby looked around. "Which way is it coming from?"

"It's _not_ a person." Blake couldn't explain _how_ she knew, she just did. Whatever was making that sound wasn't someone's pet. It was too savage to be anything except a wild animal. Or worse.

Straining her ears, she decided that the sound was stronger coming from the passage to the left, and pulled Ruby right. "Come on. We just need to—" The corridor ended abruptly in a set of stairs, leading down.

"We have to go," Blake repeated, turning on her heel. "We have to—"

"Wait a sec! Those might be the stairs we went down before. If they are, we won't be lost anymore. And if they're not, it means we definitely have to go the other way to get out."

Blake tried to map the place in her head. Was she misremembering what she'd seen when they walked in? She could have sworn there wasn't any split in the corridor except right in the beginning. But Ruby was right, they needed to know where they _were_ before they got to where they wanted to go, so they charged down the steps. There were two ways to go, right and left, and already Blake had the feeling that this wasn't familiar. Except...

There, on the wall, she was _sure_ she'd seen that burned tapestry before. "This way," she said, beckoning Ruby to the right. They walked down the hall, then turned a corner, and found more stairs—still leading down. _Wrong way._

The barking was louder, now. Blake flinched when it broke off for a second and was replaced with a long, chilling howl. Ruby heard that, too. She led the way back, until they turned the corner and passed the tapestry and...

"What?!" Blake looked first one way, then the other. It was a straight hallway, leading back the way they came and forward until it ended at a wooden door.

"Ooh." Ruby bit her lip. "Um... I think this is one of those 'the maze is changing' moments."

Blake rushed up to the door and heaved it open, letting it crash against the wall. Inside was a dining room. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, with a single candle set on one of its arms. There were no other doors, only a long table set with chipped plates and tarnished silverware. She wrinkled her nose, knowing without having to look that food had been left to rot.

"Down the stairs, then," Ruby said. The distant baying was loud enough now that she must hear it too. Blake followed her, shivering. Part of her fear was irrational—she'd hated dogs since she was a child, which had amused her mother and frustrated her father. Part was beacuse she knew there were Grimm that imitated the sounds that local animals made, so they could move stealthily without the wildlife going silent and revealing their presence. Neither of those felt like the _real_ reason, though. There was just something _wrong_ with that noise. Those weren't normal dogs.

Her feet hit the bottom of the stairs before she was expecting it, and she stumbled. Then she looked back and saw that yes, there _were_ six steps after that torch sconce, she _hadn't_ counted it wrong the first time. "This doesn't feel right."

"Nope." Ruby pointed. "It really, _really_ doesn't."

Blake followed her gesture and gaped, horrorstruck. There was a window set into one wall of the corridor. It was massive, floor-to-ceiling and more than ten feet wide. All she could see in it was her own reflection, and vague shapes just on the other side of the glass. They were _definitely_ supposed to be underground right now.

"We could smash it?"

"Better than trying to guess our way out," Blake agreed.

Ruby slammed the butt end of her scythe into the window. Blake half expected it to bounce off, but it didn't. The glass shattered. A torrent of rich, dark soil poured through the opening, bringing with it the fetid stench of something rotting. Ruby jerked back with a high-pitched yelp, then held her cape over her mouth and nose.

It was only after the dirt finally settled into a huge mound that Blake realized it was still moving. It was full of fat, grey, squirming _things,_ like maggots or worms. Her stomach roiled, and she had to clap a hand over her mouth and back away, breathing shallowly through her nose and staring at the wall.

The barking was faster, now, almost feverish, like a pack of dogs were snapping and gibbering at each other, getting ready to tear something apart. Blake grabbed Ruby's sleeve and sprinted down the corridor. It went right, and then there was a long stretch with no doors, no paintings, only blank walls.

Another right turn. She slipped on a rug and swore. The corridor went right _again._ Ruby poked her head around the corner, then beckoned Blake.

It kept going. There was no sign of the place they'd just come from. A niggling ache began behind her left eye. The barking was close, now. She shivered, and kept glancing over her shoulder as they went right, right, left, right again, all without ever doubling back on themselves.

Finally the corridor split, and Ruby hung a right—Blake suspected that this was because otherwise it would have been their fourth left in a row, and going in the direction that seemed to at least _vaguely_ correspond to the laws of physics seemed like a good idea. It didn't work. The next four turns were all rights as well, and they were coming in quicker and quicker succession until Blake was impossibly dizzy.

"It doesn't end," she muttered. "It doesn't _end!"_

"We'll figure something out."

There was a crash somewhere behind them, and Blake flinched. She could hear other things, now, too—not just barking but the scratching of claws against tile, and a strange whirring as if of thousands of tiny wings.

Then, just as the sound was so close that Blake was _sure_ whatever it was would come around the corner, Ruby gave a victorious shout and pointed to a fork in the corridor, a passage branching off this one that turned _left._ They skidded around the bend. There was a painting nearby, and with a flash of horror Blake recognized it. It was just like the tapestry from the library, only it hadn't been burned. She could clearly see that the patch of toxic green that had turned her stomach was really an eye, wide and mad and bloodshot.

Her foot caught against the legs of a chair that had been knocked over on its side, and then she was sprawling, tumbling head over heels, cracking her head against the floor. Blake tried to get up, but only managed to turn herself over. She stared back the way they'd come, scrabbling desperately at the floor as a twisted shadow fell into the corridor.

It came around the bend heartbeats later—not a dog but something _else._ There were two dog's heads the size of horses, more that were smaller, and a forest of tiny, twisted, misshapen things that drooled and whimpered and twitched. The eyes, _hundreds_ of eyes, were all bright green. Not the same shade in the tapestry—the artist hadn't captured it, they had tried and gotten closer than she could stand, but it wasn't the same.

Blake reeled, got to her feet for half a second before crashing into the wall. The creature was barking, snarling, snapping, with slaver running from between its jaws and its eyes rolling with rage. Cold was stealing into her, weighing her down. Her vision blurred, which was almost a blessing, and there was a strange ringing in her ears that followed the pitch of the barking.

 _Move,_ she told herself. She knew she'd be torn apart if she didn't run, she _knew_ it, she kept imagining those jaws clamping down on her throat, but she just couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry!"

 _It's going to kill me._ She tried again to push herself upright, but what was even the point? They were trapped here.

"I'm sorry," she said again, then again and again and again, shouting it at the top of her lungs as Ruby grabbed her by the shoulder and hauled her bodily away. The barking turned to howling, and for a second the ringing in her ears and the blurring of her vision and the coldness in her bones all magnified until she felt she was drifting, floating in some dark and empty space. And for that instant she thought that it was a good thing she was here, she _wanted_ those fangs to sink into the soft flesh under her chin. That would be justice.


	8. 4b — A Monster to Slay

Ruby grabbed Blake by the wrist and pulled, but she still stood rooted in place, just staring. She'd thought it went without saying when there was a giant dog monster trying to kill them, but, "Run!"

"I'm sorry... _I'm sorry!"_

The snarling, snapping _thing_ charged them. Ruby got a glimpse of its legs and realized there were five, three on one side and two on the other, giving it a weird lurching gait. She also noticed that they were near a T junction.

"Sorry!" she said, then yanked her teammate to the left. The monster was right on their heels, but she'd forced it to turn towards the side with more legs. It tripped over itself, slid around the corner much too fast, and slammed bodily into the wall. The head turned, jaws open and spattering slaver all over the floor. Eyes rolled with mindless rage, bulging out of their sockets, and already it was scrabbling at the ground, gaining traction.

"Come on!" She gave Blake another pull. She tipped sideways, most of her weight coming down on Ruby's back.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I didn't know..."

The monster's eyes glowed with malice. _Green._ Whatever this thing was, it wasn't a Grimm. Already it was getting to its feet, just fifteen feet away, its jaws opening wide. It was hard to look away from them, hard not to at least wonder whether it might be easier to just stop...

"No!" Tearing her eyes away from the beast, Ruby grabbed Blake around the middle and, praying that this would actually work, she scattered.

There was a familiar rush of exhilaration as she whipped through the air, but something was different. She felt heavier, almost like she was moving through syrup rather than air. The hallway turned. Ruby perceived the wall up ahead and tried to turn, but the extra weight was too much. In a fraction of a second, she reformed herself and used her momentum to tug Blake around the bend. The hideous baying of the monster was still too close, _much_ too close, so she scattered again. And again. And again.

For what felt like a long time, Ruby's world was condensed into bursts of motion. She had to stop whenever she turned, and every time the barking would come back to her senses, the thrill of her semblance would fade and she would be sick with terror. There was something _unnatural_ about that thing, and this was coming from someone who hunted soulless abominations for a living.

Then she tried to call up her semblance again, and nothing happened. She took a few more steps. Her knees buckled, and she landed spread-eagled on the ground with Blake partly on top of her. Everything hurt.

"It's okay," Ruby panted, shaking Blake's shoulder. "It's gone. Sorta." She could still hear it, but it had faded into the distance for now.

Blake curled in on herself. She was mumbling under her breath, though Ruby could only make out the words, 'Please' and 'Don't.'

"Hey!" Another shake, harder this time. "It's me, okay? You're... you're dreaming, or something." Her head lolled sideways.

"Okay." Ruby swallowed. "Don't panic. Gotta get moving." She gave Blake's arm a yank. "Hey! Get up or we're gonna die!"

Blake didn't react, except for a long, slow blink. Her eyes were glazed over.

"Sorry," Ruby said, "but I'm out of ideas." So she slapped her teammate across the face as hard as she could.

For a second, there was no reaction. Then another slow blink, followed by Blake furrowing her brow as if the pain had only just hit her.

"Blake?"

Her head turned, and her eyes focused on Ruby's face.

"You have to get up. Okay?"

She didn't respond to that, so Ruby gave her a tug. Blake figured out what she wanted about halfway through, and she _sort of_ helped. Between the two of them they managed to get her on her feet, though she had to lean on Ruby's shoulder.

"We're gonna be okay."

"...No."

Ruby gave Blake a stern poke in the side. "Stop that. We just need to get to... um..." She had been about to say a door or window, but there was no guarantee that either of those would lead anywhere good. She shuddered at the memory of the _things_ that had fallen in through the window. Looking back, she wasn't totally sure anymore that they had _only_ been worms or maggots.

"No way out," Blake mumbled. "We stole the amulet."

"What?" Ruby blurted out, but a second later she got it. "Oh! _Oh!"_

The jade pendant was still in her pocket—she'd totally forgotten about it since she'd picked it up. "Wait, that's perfect! We can just give it back!"

Blake's jaw jumped. "Stupid." It came out a little slurred.

Ruby clenched a fist. "I said _stop that,_ okay? We're not going to die. I won't let us."

"Green."

"What?"

"I keep seeing it... it's in my eyes."

"You're not making any sense." Ruby was already feeling bad about snapping at her. "Just... try not to think what it's trying to make you think, okay?"

"Can't." Blake let out a small moan, and her head fell forward as if a string had been cut. Suddenly Ruby was supporting a whole lot more of her weight. "Keep hearing it."

"Just... look, you kinda have to work with me here. Put your feet down." To Ruby's surprise, Blake obeyed. "Yeah! That's great! Now one step... and another... okay!"

Eventually, she got to the point where she was leading Blake instead of carrying her. She still stumbled sometimes, since she wasn't really looking at where she was going or anything, but she was moving. _Progress._

Ruby bit her lip, then fished her scroll out of her pocket and opened it. _Nope, no bars._ She sent out a text anyway—it took forever to finish it, since she was walking and nudging Blake along at the same time. Her scroll should keep trying to send it every so often until it ran out of power, and... well, if something _did_ happen, she was hoping that maybe they would go back into normal space, and the message would go out. At least... at least then Weiss and Yang would have some idea of what happened.

 _No,_ she scolded herself. _Bad thoughts._

— Trapped in manor w monster. Not a grimm

She hit send, and as predicted she got an error message. She thought about telling them their coordinates, but... no. Whatever was going on in here, either it was possible to get out of here or it wasn't. If it _wasn't,_ people coming to help would just get stuck too.

— Dont fllw. Not safe

Then she turned off the location function on her scroll, even though she was pretty sure it had stopped broadcasting a while ago.

"Sorry, guys," she murmured. Blake didn't seem to hear her.

* * *

Ruby knew they should probably be running, but she was just too exhausted. Blake followed behind her, staring off into space, her hand hanging limply from where Ruby was gripping her wrist. Without her help, it was hard to figure out where to go. There were candles all over the place, but there was a lot of space between them and the shadows hung so thick and heavy that she kept tripping over things

Maybe that was why it took her so long to notice. She couldn't really see her feet, and at first she thought it was just her imagination, but no—the hallway was tilting. The angle kept getting steeper, and soon she could see that the walls were leaning to the left, and one of them met the floor higher than the other.

Blake started having trouble moving in a straight line, which turned out to be a good thing. The more she had to focus on where she was putting her feet, the more alert she got. Eventually the two of them had to walk with one foot on the tiled floor and the other on the wall.

"This isn't right." It was the first coherent thing Blake had said since the monster. Ruby slipped a little trying to give her a hug, and her boot jammed painfully into the corner between the floor and the wall—which had pretty much switched places, so that the wall was flatter and easier to walk on.

Blake gave her an awkward pat, then tried to step away and lurched into the floor. She put one hand on the tiles, then squinted at it. "What..."

"It's been like that for a while. You didn't notice?"

"I thought I was imagining it."

The distant barking got louder, and both of them tensed. Blake's ears lay pinned against her skull. Her eyes were so wide Ruby could see the whites going all the way around. Then she broke into a sprint.

Ruby rushed to catch up with her. At a run, the tilt got steeper faster. Before long they were on a flat surface again, though she kept tripping over empty torch sconces and at one point she put her whole foot through a painting. She didn't feel too bad about that—it was of someone being flayed.

The barking wasn't getting any closer, but it didn't sound like they were getting further ahead of it either. Blake kept running for a long time, while an exhausted Ruby struggled to keep up. Then she slowed down again, limping and panting and leaning against what used to be the ceiling. It was now tilted about thirty degrees to their left.

"Blake?" Ruby nudged her shoulder.

"It's going to catch us."

She swallowed. "It... yeah, it probably is."

Blake's breath hitched, and she slumped against the ceiling. There was a cobweb there, and for a second Ruby was distracted watching a small spider hanging from a thread. It was going _up_ and _sideways._

"Look." Ruby grabbed her teammate's shoulder and squeezed. "There's still stuff we can try. Okay? I'm gonna toss it that pendant thingy. If _that_ doesn't work, we find out if it bleeds. And... the next window, we can try smashing it and digging our way up."

Blake shuddered. "No. I'd rather let it..."

Ruby opened her mouth to argue with that, but then she remembered the worms squirming in the dirt.

"Okay, maybe not. But I'm still gonna smash 'em just in case they don't all do that."

"They do."

"We won't know until we try it!"

Blake's head fell forward. Ruby grabbed her hand, alarmed, but it looked like she was just... staring at her shoes.

"Blake?"

Her ear twitched a little at hearing her name, but she didn't respond. Ruby tugged at her arm, and she began to walk—a slow, mechanical shuffle.

"Just... say something?"

Nothing.

Ruby kept moving, trying to focus on the comforting weight of her sweetheart on her back, and her friend's wrist in her hand. She could sorta feel her pulse, which was good since she was walking like a zombie and it was getting pretty hard not to panic.

The floor was directly overhead, now. Ruby reached up and brushed her fingers against the back of a chair that was sticking to it, and the whole thing tumbled to the ceiling with a crash. Blake flinched.

"Sorry."

No response.

Ruby fished her scroll out again, typing as she walked.

— Gravitys being weird. Feeling kinda alone here. Thinking of u guys

The screen flashed with another error message, and she stuffed the scroll back in her pocket. "They'll get it," she told herself. "Eventually."

They turned a corner, and about fifteen feet away the path forked. One side ran for a while until it hit a dead end, while the _other..._ it was a flight of steps, only it twisted somehow so that the top stairs were upside-down. Only when Ruby climbed them, they were straight all along and it was everything _else_ that got all twisted, until she was standing on a perfectly good floor looking at a perfectly normal set of corridors and feeling vaguely nauseous. At least this was 'too much cotton candy before the teacups' kind of nauseous, rather than 'a waterfall of rotten dirt and maybe-flesh-eating grave worms almost fell on my head' kind of nauseous. It almost felt like welcoming in a friend. Or maybe an acquaintance she didn't like very much.

Of course, then it happened _again—_ only this time the hallway ended in a dead stop and a massive pit, which turned out to be more hallway pointing _down._ When Ruby put her hand over the edge to touch it, she found herself suddenly hanging by her fingertips from the ledge, with Blake standing sideways a few feet away from her.

If nothing else, that startled Blake back to herself. She went over more carefully than Ruby. First she put both arms down flat, so that when gravity changed on her she could just swing a leg over. Then they were both sitting on the floor, looking down into a massive chasm that they'd just been walking up, and Ruby was having a harder and harder time imagining what escaping from this place would even _look_ like. Where were they, right now? Underground somewhere? Still in that mansion, with space all crumpled up like dirty laundry? Another dimension?

She wished she could ask Weiss.

* * *

They walked around like that for a while. There were more weird chasms. Once, Ruby put her hand on what she thought was the floor of another hallway, but it turned out that part _was_ just a giant pit made to look like a corridor. After that, they were a lot more careful about where they were walking.

They went down a staircase and ended up on the ceiling of the corridor they'd just come from. They went straight and circled back around to the same hallway, under the same painting—this one of an ocean landscape and a ship, one that would have been pleasant if it weren't for a strange and unsettling ripple on the surface. Then they turned _up._ Ruby jumped and slapped at a carpeted ceiling and landed on her butt, with Blake standing upside-down from her perspective. By now she was almost getting used to the weird lurching feeling she got whenever the world spun around her.

"See?" She grinned. "I bet this thing is too dumb to try that. We can keep ahead of it."

Blake flinched, and the barking in the distance got louder. Ruby didn't try encouraging her like that again. She didn't have to, because seconds later they were both completely lost for words. They'd walked out onto a balcony, with a staircase leading up... and _sideways,_ and another that went down and around and somehow spiraled in on itself so that someone walking down it would keep walking _forever._ There were more staircases, all of them bending in impossible ways, leading to hallways with vases perched on them so that Ruby couldn't tell if the gravity there was going up or down or sideways, or all three at once.

"Whoa." Ruby was pretty sure this was the coolest thing she'd ever seen. Not worth it, but still.

They picked the most normal-looking staircase. Unfortunately it did a sneaky sort of corkscrew as they were walking, and they ended up on the opposite side of the room from the place they were aiming for. There was an arched bridge, or a slide, or both. Halfway across, Ruby heard a series of squeaks and wing beats. She whirled around, then ducked down with a yelp. Bats fluttered overhead, some of them brushing past the arm she'd held over her face.

She wasn't too bothered, she'd loved bats ever since Uncle Qrow had told her they ate mosquitoes. Then she took her hand away for a second and got a glimpse of one of them. Its eyes were bright green.

The barking got louder, but Ruby hardly noticed. Blake had crumpled to the ground, both hands over her head. "It's okay!" Ruby put a hand on her arm. "They're gone."

"It isn't gone. It's _never_ gone."

That gave her a chill. _It,_ not _they._ The second Blake said it, she had trouble thinking of the bats as anything other than an extension of the monster. One and the same.

"Let's go." She gave Blake a tug. "I'd kinda rather not be out in the open like this."

"It doesn't matter."

"Well, there's no way to run in here. We can't even aim for where we want to go, we might loop back into its mouth by accident."

"Doesn't matter." Blake's shoulders slumped. She was half kneeling, half sitting on her heels, with both hands lying limp in her lap.

Ruby grit her teeth. _Okay. Enough is enough._

"Blake. _Get up."_ Blake twitched. "We have to keep going, okay? We _have_ to. Yang and Weiss are waiting for us!" The little rush of anger she'd started with had already fizzled out. "It's not like you to give up like this," she finished, more pleading than scolding.

"Yes it is." Blake hunched in on herself, tucking both elbows against her sides.

 _"Please._ Let's keep going a little longer. We just have to find a way out. Or... or if it catches up to us first, then we try to give back the amulet. And if we really need to, we can fight. Maybe if we kill it this place will go back to normal."

"There's no _point!"_ Blake's head snapped around. Ruby was almost glad to be shouted at—there was a spark in her eyes, at least. She wasn't just stumbling around half dead. "We can't run, and we can't fight. It's useless."

"That's the monster messing with your head," Ruby insisted. "We can't _know_ that until we try, right?"

"You saw it. It's not a Grimm, it's _older._ I think it's been here longer than any of us. People or Grimm."

Ruby couldn't say for sure where that feeling came from. Something about it evoked a primal sense of fear, the way a really powerful Grimm might, but there was also something... else. Maybe it was that she could sense the echo of its shape in old carvings she'd seen in museums, ancient depictions of gods whose names had been lost to time. Maybe it was just the way its eyes bugged out, the smell of its fur, the eerie barking she could hear even now. She didn't _know_ they couldn't kill it, but she could _feel_ it.

"Maybe," she admitted. "But we've got to _try,_ at least. It could be the only reason no one's ever killed it is that no one ever thought they could." That was the worst thing—it was so easy to imagine lying down and letting it eat her.

"I can't." Blake's head fell forward, her hair hiding her face. "I'm just... I'm so _tired."_

"Blake..."

"Go on ahead. It's... maybe I'd slow it down."

"What?! No!"

"There's no _point!_ I can't even get up, you... you can outrun it. Find the way back."

Ruby sat down in front of her, cross-legged, ignoring the barking. "That's dumb." Blake glanced up. The spark was gone, smothered. "I want to keep going because I think our lives are precious. That _we're_ precious. You're worth fighting for, and... if I ran off like that, I wouldn't be me anymore. Then there'd _really_ be no point.

"So... we can stay here if you want. This place is... it's weird and kind of disturbing, but it's pretty awesome too. It's... it's not a bad spot to..." She swallowed. "But I think we should keep going. Together. Maybe the odds are pretty small, but... I believe we can do it."

Blake looked up, then. "How do you do that?"

"Huh?"

"Just... keep on clinging to blind optimism."

Ruby smiled. "It's not blind, not really. I know things are bad, but... I don't _know_ it's hopeless until I've tried, and I'm not going to try if I just think it's hopeless. So I don't."

"You're setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Sometimes it's worth being disappointed."

Blake tipped her head back, looking around at the room above them. It was really something—Ruby was pretty sure she saw a set of monkey bars overhead. Or maybe a rope bridge. "I don't think I can do that. It feels like lying to myself."

"I don't think it is. It's like... when somebody tells you you're okay, that nothing's gonna hurt you. They're not really saying they _know_ that, nobody can ever know that. They're saying that they'll do everything they can to protect you. Even if it's hard, they won't stop trying."

Blake managed a weak smile. "You win. Remind to never debate philosophy with you."

"Cool." Ruby slipped her scroll out of her pocket.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just turning it off."

She put it away, catching a last glimpse of the screen before it snapped shut.

— We love you and were sorry

* * *

They left the tangled room as soon as they could, vanishing back into the maze of hallways. Neither of them gave the chair stuck to the ceiling a second glance. Ruby paid more attention to a painting on the wall. Two lovers were stargazing, their arms intertwined, one leaning their head on the other's shoulder. Up above them, the night sky was dusted with silver stars and bright purple nebulae—except for one dark spot, just out of their line of sight.

The barking was closer, now. Much too close. Blake was still only walking, though the way her brow was furrowed made Ruby think that she was going as fast as she could. She wanted to burst apart again, carry them both away, but her semblance hadn't had enough time to recover. She couldn't do it more than once, so she'd better make it count.

Then she started hearing the scratching of its claws against the tile, and realized it was probably now or never. So she grabbed Blake and scattered them. She reformed seconds later feeling wobbly and spent. The barking was quieter, but not by much.

Blake broke into a sprint when it started howling. Ruby kept pace with her, even if her lungs were starting to burn, waiting for another passageway to split off this one. They could try and lead it down one hallway while they escaped in another direction, or find a corridor too narrow for it to turn around in and run past it. Something. But there was nothing, just rows of torches, a chair stuck to the ceiling, a painting of the night sky—

Ruby stopped dead and stared. It was the same painting, the _exact_ same painting, except for the fact that the blank space in the stars was closer, and its shape was clearer—something humanoid with wings. Maybe there were two different copies? But _no,_ she could remember looking at the back of the left figure's head, and the strokes that rendered it were exactly the same. Not different copies. Not different paintings.

"Ruby!" Blake was backing up, her eyes blown wide. "Come on!"

Shaking herself, she took off after her teammate. She could hear its claws scratching the floor again. The snarls. Even the ragged breathing in between barks, trails of slobber hitting the ground, and the faint whirring of wings.

Blake sped up, casting terrified glances over her shoulder. Ruby had a hard time paying attention to where she was going. She was watching the ceiling, waiting... waiting... and then it was there, the chair overhead, the painting of the night sky. She only glimpsed it as they blew past, but she could tell it was the same. Now the void was directly overhead, filling most of the sky, revealing clawed hands and a long, sinuous tail.

Ruby memorized the next three paintings, shuddering as she did so. A squidlike creature with draconic legs, a man with his chest cut open and splayed out as if for display, rows of sarcophagi with inhuman proportions.

The chair flashed by. The shadow in the sky was gone, now, and the cliff was empty. No sign of the lovers. Then the others flew by; squid, dead man, sarcophagi. Same order. None of the others had changed at all. _It's looping._

One moment Blake was sprinting flat-out, hair streaming behind her. The next she was on the ground, slumped, propped up on one elbow. Drained. Ruby skidded to a halt. She didn't bother insisting they keep going, not when she was pretty sure they were running in circles.

Instead she dug into her pocket and produced the jade pendant. "We're sorry!" she called out, as the monster emerged from the shadows and into the light of one of the torches. She hurled it at the thing's feet. "We didn't know it was yours! We're giving it back!"

The mismatched fifth leg came down on the little amulet mid-stride. It shattered.

Ruby tried to haul Blake to her feet. She'd gone completely limp, and there was no way she could drag her away fast enough. So she drew Crescent Rose, aimed, and fired.

The bullet passed through the monster as if it were made of smoke. It lashed out with a foreleg and slammed her into a wall. Her aura shattered. She rolled sideways, barely escaping another slash. Then she retreated, limping and struggling for breath, until she was just in front of Blake.

When the long shadow of the beast fell over her, there wasn't any more question of fighting or killing it. There was nowhere to run. All hope was lost. Ruby Rose stood between it and her friend, brandishing her scythe in front of her, and wondering if this was how her mother had felt.


	9. 5a — Plastic, Paint, and Porcelain

Blake missed a step. She stumbled as her foot came down wrong on a cobblestone, and her stomach dropped like she'd just gotten to the bottom of a staircase a little to fast. She stopped dead. Looked around. Weiss was next to her, brow furrowed. Her hand rested at her hip where Myrtenaster should have been, but wasn't.

It was like waking up—like she'd just glitched. All memory of how she'd gotten here was gone. Blake turned to Weiss.

"Where... where are we?"

She'd expected Weiss to stare at her like she'd lost her mind. And she _did_ stare at her, but the look on her face was anxious.

"I don't know."

Blake tensed. She cast a wary look around. The street they were on seemed almost ordinary, but it was too clean. Lots of white brick buildings, no trash on the street. She couldn't even see any graffiti. On a nearby corner, she spotted a group of men wearing red and black uniforms. There was an insignia on their backs—the silhouettes of a pair of crossed claw hammers.

_Maybe we're in another kingdom?_ She couldn't think of one that had architecture like this. White brick wasn't a go-to material for building shop fronts in cities where they could be stained by just about anything. The symbol was unfamiliar, but maybe that was just because they were a local gang?

Weiss had spotted them too, and started marching in their direction. "Wait!" Blake jogged to catch up with her. "What are you doing?"

"We need information, don't we? It's not as if there's anyone else around." Blake really wished she could argue with that.

"Excuse me!"

The man nearest them turned, revealing a long face and somber blue eyes. He glanced at Weiss, then jumped and straightened into a strange salute. "Miss."

"...Pardon?"

Blake looked from him to Weiss, then back again. _We didn't take over the world while we were out, did we?_

"I apologize for the inconvenience," the man said, putting a hand on her upper arm. Weiss pulled back, but he caught her wrist. "We're supposed to take you home."

"What?!" Weiss pulled back again, harder. "What are you talking about? Where are we?"

The other two had turned around now. Blake stepped between them and Weiss, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. "Who—"

She never got a chance to finish the question. There was a scream from somewhere nearby, and a woman burst out of an alley in a dead sprint with long red hair and a bushy tail streaming behind her. She had a little boy on her hip, one hand on his back. He clung to her with his arms circling her neck and a monkey tail curling around her waist. A man was hot on her heels, but he wasn't the one chasing her—she reached back and grabbed his hand seconds later.

More men in red and black came tearing out of the alley. Three had truncheons, a fourth was carrying a heavy metal flashlight. The first group turned to look towards the commotion, and Weiss used the distraction to wrench her arm free.

"Hey—" the first thug protested, but the others that had been with him had already taken off into the street. The mother skidded to a halt in front of them, casting a wild look over her shoulder, her face going pale.

"Stop that!" Weiss marched up to the same soldier that had just grabbed her.

"Please stand down, miss. It's only a routine expulsion of filth." The casual way he said it made Blake's throat constrict.

_"You_ stand down." Weiss put both hands on her hips, apparently going with the assumption that she had the authority to order them around. She seemed to be at least kind of right, judging by the growing discomfort on his face.

"You heard her." Blake wasn't sure if her word carried any weight at all, but she stepped up beside Weiss and tried to seem important. The soldier glanced at her for the first time, and she felt a chill. Meeting his eyes was like looking up through a microscope—she had a powerful impression of being examined, stared through, but all she could see was a glass lens.

In one fluid motion, he reached out and snatched off her bow. She fell into a crouch as four of the other thugs drew truncheons. Behind them, she saw the mother back away, then turn and run in the opposite direction. Blake couldn't blame her—the kid clinging to her was starting to cry. The father followed, casting guilty glances over his shoulder.

_That's good._ Blake could handle being chased a lot better than the average family.

"Get behind me, miss." The first thug brandished his truncheon and tried to sweep Weiss back, only for her to bat his hand aside.

_"Excuse_ me? Put those down, you're making absolute idiots out of yourselves."

"We're only doing our jobs, miss." They fanned out. Blake tried to duck away before they could circle all the way around, but she hesitated an instant too long and all of a sudden running looked a lot harder.

"I'm not an enemy," she said, raising her hands. "I'm not going to hurt anyone." That had never worked in the early days of the White Fang, not even when they'd only been sitting in cafés that wouldn't serve them, but at least if she tried she wouldn't have to feel guilty about hitting them.

They drew in closer, shoulder to shoulder, erasing any gaps in the line.

_"Stop!"_ Weiss grabbed the first thug and pulled at his arm. "I'm ordering you to stop!"

He shrugged her off easily, and Blake felt the beginnings of panic. She'd been assuming they were more or less normal people, but now... either they were stronger than they had any right to be, or she and Weiss were out of aura, somehow. Neither option was good. She retreated into the middle of the circle.

"It's our job to protect you," the leader said, and something struck Blake's shoulder. She staggered. Someone grabbed both her arms. There was a loud thump, and when she looked up she saw that Weiss was hitting him repeatedly on the shoulder, the back of his head, and once on his ear. It was uncharacteristically graceless, she wasn't used to fighting bare-handed, but from the way he was wincing it still hurt.

Blake's arms were forced behind her, and the leader snagged Weiss' wrist for the second time when she landed a nasty hit on his jaw. "Sorry, Miss," he said, still with that same strained politeness, "but we need to take you to your father."

Both of them froze. "What does my father have to do with anything?" Weiss demanded, glaring. "Where are we? Who are you, and why are you doing this?"

The leader sighed. "Just come along, please. He's waiting."

* * *

They were dragged into an intimidating-looking room in an intimidating-looking building, all in the shadow of a massive white brick wall. Blake's head was spinning. Weiss' father was involved in all this _somehow,_ but since when did he have control over an entire city? Was this Atlas? How did they get here?

Then they stopped in the middle of the room, with guards all around, and every question died in her throat. There he was, the man himself, reclining casually behind his desk with his hands folded. He didn't seem surprised to see Blake, now obviously a faunus, in his daughter's company.

"Well?" Weiss crossed her arms expectantly.

"Well, what?" He spread his hands. "I believe this is traditionally when the wayward child offers some sort of excuse."

_"I'm_ the one that needs to give an explanation?!" Weiss stepped forward. The guards tensed, but didn't stop her. "What are you doing here? Where are we? And how did we _get_ here?"

"You've always been here."

"No, I haven't. I've been at Beacon."

"That doesn't mean you haven't been here."

"What's that supposed to—"

He held up a hand, and she cut off mid-sentence. It was as though he'd just hit stop on a tape recorder. "I think you're confused."

"I'm not confused."

"You're _home,_ Weiss." He gestured at the room at large. "After making quite a fuss about how qualified you were to roam about Outside, and finding it wasn't to your liking." He put an odd stress on the word 'outside,' the kind that made Blake imagine it capitalized.

"Wasn't to my—your men _grabbed_ me!"

"They are there to protect you."

"Protect me from what, exactly? Strange men with clubs who chase families through the streets?!" The guard next to her grimaced. Mr. Schnee's gaze snapped to him, and an unnatural stillness came over his face. He straightened, his posture suddenly picture perfect.

"I know you think you're invincible." He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his desk. "So did I, at your age. Unfortunately those in our position don't have the luxury of clinging to ideas like that."

"But—"

"No."

Again the tense stillness. Weiss grit her teeth, apparently trying to think up a rebuttal, but she wasn't saying anything. Blake opened her mouth, then realized an instant too late that she did _not_ want to draw Jacques Schnee's attention.

"Yes?" He gestured to her. "I think I'd like an explanation from you, as well. Just what do you think you're doing within these walls?"

"They dragged me here," Blake pointed out, indignant.

"Not the building." He waved his hand, as if the distinction was ultimately not worth the bother of trying to educate her. She bristled. "I've worked quite hard to keep any... undesirables out of this place. Filthy creatures, unhealthy influences, imperfections. It's a point of pride, for me."

"Fine," Blake spat. "You don't want me in your city, and I don't want to _be_ here!"

"Don't you?" He gave her a strange look. "You broke in."

"I..." The denial died in her throat. Maybe she _had_ needed to be in here for some reason—she couldn't remember.

"I have invested quite a lot of time and effort into cultivating this space. Everything within these walls must be kept neat, clean, and pure."

Weiss stared at him. "What on Remnant is wrong with you?"

He scowled. "And free of dirty influences, of course."

"You're not acting like yourself." She cast a wary glance around, focusing mostly on the guards. "Just... where _are_ we?"

"Am I in the habit of feeding you answers to blatantly obvious questions?"

_"Obvious?!"_

He flicked a hand, a clear dismissal, and refocused on Blake. "I'd like to know what you think you're doing here."

"I'm not going to apologize or make excuses for my existence. If being a faunus is a crime here, it's not like anything I say will make much of a difference."

"Hm?" He narrowed his eyes at her, his eyebrows knitting together. "No. Being a faunus is hardly a crime. It's not as though you have the power to control it."

"You don't think there's anything wrong with me? That's hard to believe."

"That isn't what I said, now is it?" His eyes bored in to her. "You're a filthy thing, but that has nothing to do with how you were _born._ It's what you've made of yourself. You had a clean beginning, and you soiled it. I have no place for such things in my garden."

"Your _what?"_ Weiss backed up, accidentally treading on the foot of the lead guard. He didn't even blink. "What is wrong with you?"

"You don't know anything about me," Blake gritted out.

"I know the sort." He blinked, and all of a sudden the look on his face seemed off to her, like there was something else hiding behind it. "You say the world has done you wrong, and you think that gives you the right to lash out like an animal. Do you deny it?"

"Yes!" She tried to move towards him, but one of the guards grabbed her arm and held her back. "I never wanted—"

"Of course not." A small smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. Snake's eyes. "You didn't want anything to do with the bloodshed. Too squeamish. Unfortunately, you were never very good at dodging the spatter."

"I—"

"Well? Are you going to tell me your hands are clean?" He leaned forward. "You've never taken part in any deaths, is that it? You haven't been violent. Haven't been _complicit."_

Her stomach twisted, and she retreated a step. The soldier's grip on her arm loosened. "I didn't... I never wanted..."

"No, you _never_ wanted any of them dead." He smirked. "Never wanted _revenge,_ only _justice,_ and if it started happening here or there... well. That wasn't your fault. Of course you eventually ran out of excuses and bolted, thinking that made you innocent."

"You... you don't know anything about me."

He sat back, both hands splayed out flat on the desk. "Do you deny it? It's a simple question."

She made the mistake of glancing to her left, catching a glimpse of wide blue eyes. Weiss' mouth was open, like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Blake shied away again, felt a light pressure where the soldier's hand was still on her wrist, glanced into his face.

Wide brown eyes, curly brown hair, a hint of freckles on the bridge of his nose, all bared when the white helmet was pulled off. The Atlesian symbol on his chest. The smell of blood.

Then he was himself again, with the hammer insignia in place of Atlas' torch and gears. Blake twisted her arm free, turned, and bolted. She was in the doorway before any of the other guards reacted, and in the hallway by the time one of them caught up with her. She kicked him in the shin, sending him reeling, and then she was dashing towards the window. There was a fire escape, one window to the left and two floors down.

_"Blake!"_

It sounded torn out, and before she had to look back Blake shoved the window open—unlocked, or she'd broken it open in her panic—and threw herself into empty space.

* * *

She hid in a cramped, foul space between a dumpster and an alley wall, thinking that out of everything Weiss' father had just said to her, the bit about his city being 'clean' and 'pure' was the most blatant lie. Soldiers moved past her, but the search felt half-hearted. The soldiers just walked past the mouth of the alley, one by one, hardly even glancing around.

Still, the fact that they were out there gave her some very unwelcome time to think about how she'd just done _exactly_ what Weiss had told her _not_ to do in a situation like this.

_Damn it._ She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped both arms around them, then pillowed her head against one shoulder. The man's face—a _boy's_ face, really, he'd been older than her but not by enough—still hovered at the edges of her perception.

When she stopped hearing the guards, she decided it would be better to wait a little longer. So she stewed in silence, running the conversation over and over again in her head, trying to think of just how much she had said that was incriminating. That wasn't it, though, not really. It was what she _hadn't_ said, the way she hadn't found it in herself to put up any kind of denial. Weiss always said the innocent never run.

Maybe this place was just as filthy and morally deficient as any other city on Remnant, but that only made him wrong about _that,_ not about _her._ She hadn't been born wrong no matter what everyone kept telling her, but that could change. Had changed.

She glanced up at the building she'd just escaped and muttered a curse. If they'd been back in the dorms, she could maybe have believed that it would blow over. Ruby would handle Weiss, make sure she didn't jump to too many conclusions and watch her back in case something happened. Yang would talk to Blake, make her feel less like a monster. And probably point out that she was being stupid.

Ultimately, it wasn't a question of whether Weiss would be angry or not. She'd just run off in the middle of a confrontation with Jacques Schnee, and they were trapped in some alien city. Neither of them even knew its _name,_ let alone where it was. Maybe Weiss would do something even more drastic, and maybe the agreement they'd come to after the docks had just broken, but... she couldn't just _leave_ her in there.

"Damn it." Blake stood up, brushing a hand through her hair and eyeing the building. It looked a lot harder to break into than it had been to break out of, and guards were still passing by every so often. She waited a while for them to stop, but they never did. More just kept coming at a steady pace, about two or three in a minute. Their movements struck her as oddly stiff. She slipped out of the alley just after one of them had passed. From there it was easy to climb onto the roof of the building she had been leaning against, one that overlooked Jacques'... palace? Meeting hall? Prison?

The soldiers looked like ants, all marching in a neat column. Her finger traced their movements back to a wide set of doors, like those of a hangar, leading into the same massive white-brick complex. More were streaming out, dividing up into smaller lines that each wound their way into separate streets.

Was that their barracks? Why were they coming out _now,_ when judging by the sun it had already been daytime for a while? Was it a mess hall? She approached by jumping from rooftop to rooftop, and soon spotted a small service door a little ways away from the wider one. It was partly hidden around the corner of the building, and there were only two soldiers outside guarding it. Blake picked up a handful of gravel off the roof, then tossed it into a side street. It made a loud clatter as it hit the ground, and the men turned their heads that way.

She dropped down when one of them wandered off to investigate. The other started to turn, but she wrapped an arm around his throat. It was harder than she was used to—she still had no idea what was wrong with her aura, but it hadn't come back. Eventually his struggles ceased, and he slumped to the ground. He had a key in his pocket, so she didn't even need to pick the lock.

Inside was a cramped hallway. She dragged the soldier in after her—his fellow would be suspicious when he got back either way, but it wouldn't hurt to have him look around or call for the other one for a while before he went in after her. She gave herself maybe a minute before he sounded the alarm, if she was very lucky.

She walked briskly, not bothering to hide. The walls were the same white brick and she was wearing all black with no cover to be found. She kept glancing behind her, waiting for the inevitable shout from outside. The hallway turned, and here the walls were covered with corrugated metal.

It didn't go far before it opened up onto a catwalk. Blake crouched down and poked her head into a much larger room. On one side were the massive garage-style doors she'd noticed from outside. The other was obscured by a huge curtain. Soldiers passed through it in a steady stream, picking up batons and even a few guns from long tables laid out on either side of the room. They were steady, methodical, so much so that she would have been hard pressed to tell the difference between them.

Blake moved as quickly as she dared, trusting mostly in the fact that humans rarely looked up. The wall behind her was more metal, not brick, so she wasn't as glaringly conspicuous as she might have been, but still. She'd always hated walking on catwalks (pun very much not intended, Yang was rotting her brain), because it was almost impossible to do it quietly.

Then she was moving past the curtain. It was bright, glaring red, with a white circle in the center and the same crossed hammer insignia in black. And behind it...

She froze, staring down. They were getting dressed, and not just in the sense of putting on their uniforms. Soldiers walked out from behind another curtain stark naked, then slowly filed down the length of the room, picking up bits of clothing as they went and pulling them on. As far as she could see, there was no consideration for fit. Everyone wore the same slacks, the same shirt, the same coat. One size fits all. Or rather, all fit one size.

Now she was moving even faster, arguably faster than she should if she didn't want them to notice her. But, honestly... she did _not_ need to see that and would very much like to _stop_ seeing it as quickly as possible. She approached the next curtain and hesitated. Weiss wasn't here, and neither was a way out of the city. Whatever she decided to do, this wasn't going to help. But, well... stereotype or not, she'd always been curious.

The second curtain was identical to the first. She snuck past it, then leaned in close to the railing to see. There were mirrors along the walls, and a few men walking around with airbrushes and paintbrushes and sponges. At first, she thought they were all putting on makeup. That was true, in a really twisted sense, but the further back she looked the less _human_ they were. One of the soldiers closest to her was tilting his head to the side, allowing one of the technicians better access, and she watched in horror as his face was _painted on._

Blake recoiled, making a small clattering sound as her back struck the wall and her feet went out from under her. She turned towards where another curtain was hanging, and the soldiers marched out in single file. They were stiff, blank slates, all paper white, with clear seams at their elbows, wrists, and throats. Their heads were blank, with only shallow dimples where the eyes should be.

_They moved,_ she thought. _Their faces moved. They had expressions._

One of them turned his— _its!_ —head, tilting it up towards her. She froze, heart in her throat, but it turned away just as quickly. It was one of the ones without a face, still getting the skin painted onto its legs. At this point there was no question left—she had to see what was at the far end of the room. Then she'd find Weiss. Maybe she wouldn't want anything to do with her from now on, but she deserved to know about this.

She couldn't pass behind the next curtain from the catwalk, though. It ended in a rickety-looking ladder, one that was thankfully well hidden in the shadows. It was even harder to climb ladders silently than walk on catwalks, but there was also a steady mechanical droning in the background that hid the sound of her descent.

Her boots touched the ground just as she heard a cry go up somewhere far behind her, back where she'd come from. She ignored it, slipping past the curtain just as one of the soldiers was coming through, to disguise whatever ripple she made.

Behind it was a much dimmer room, walled in on three sides. The source of the stream of soldiers. They marched out of the base of a massive steel cylinder, all eyeless and earless, and they paid Blake no mind even though she was standing not twenty feet away from them. There was a whirring and rattling noise coming from the ceiling, somewhere right above the machine, but she couldn't see its source.

She crept around the back of the huge cylinder, trying to see if there were soldiers going in, but there was nothing. Just a few pipes, a heavy grate that was welded shut, and a ladder. Blake looked from that, to the ceiling, then back again. Something had to be going in, if the guards were coming out.

There was no telling how much tighter security was getting outside, and she couldn't see any other exits. She should really just leave.

Blake bit her lip, glanced around, and started to climb.


	10. 5b — Working in His Study

Weiss hesitated at the door—that was all it took. One of the guards stepped in front of her and blocked her way out.

"Don't bother," Father snapped, as his fellows moved to chase after Blake. "She'll be found eventually, and you have other duties."

Weiss tried to shove the soldier aside, but she lost the brief scuffle and was forced back into the center of the room. It didn't sit well with her, the way she was surrounded on all sides, but she faced the desk—better to turn her back on them than him.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"I asked some pointed questions." He narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "Questions _you_ obviously ignored. I'd expected better."

For half a second, she wondered if Blake really _had_ let someone die. If she'd even _wanted_ them dead, deep down. The look on her face...

"The innocent never run."

The knot in her stomach loosened. "I've learned from experience that it's best to ask her first." She shot a glare the way Blake had gone. Sure, she trusted that it wasn't as bad as he'd made it out to be, but being left alone like this was still _vexing._

Father heaved a put-upon sigh. "You're committed to this madness, aren't you."

"What madness, exactly?"

"You let a stranger into the garden."

A little chill went up her back. "You called it that before. You _hate_ gardens." That was an exaggeration—he paid about as much mind to plant life and what mother did all day, the two mental categories into which Weiss filed gardening, as most people did to the ground they trod on.

"Not a garden in _that_ sense. A metaphorical garden. Your garden."

"...Mine."

"Of course." He smiled warmly, and hair rose on the back of her neck. "I am here to help you tend it. Outside influences, especially ones like that girl... they can't be tolerated."

"What exactly _will_ be tolerated in this 'garden' of yours?"

"Purity." His eyes glittered. "Productivity. Order. And it's _our_ garden."

She tried to reconcile the words, the tone, the look on his face... all with the mental image of her Father that she'd built up over the past seventeen years. "What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?"

A thin, needle-sharp smile. "Because we're in the garden."

He stood up, walked around his desk, and took her chin in one hand. She wanted to step away, but didn't. He studied her face for a long moment with a critical eye. Then, looking strangely sad, he produced something wrapped in cloth from one of the drawers in his desk.

"I had hoped this wouldn't be necessary, but the garden must be kept clean." He held it out to her. _"_ _You_ must be kept safe."

She bit back the first retort that popped into her head—that she had been far safer before she'd been taken here, _thank you very much—_ because she wasn't sure how he'd react. Instead she took the cloth bundle. He beckoned her to follow him and strode out of the room. She unwrapped the thing as she walked, and found that it was a simple porcelain mask.

"What...?"

"Put it on."

She hesitated a moment, then slipped it over her face. For an instant she regretted it—there was something unsettling about the way it molded perfectly against every dip and curve of her face. But the second she took her hand away, she found that the weight of it was oddly comforting. With one hand she traced its surface, noting with detached confusion that it didn't seem to have any holes to see or breathe through.

"Come." Father turned a corner, beckoning her. She followed him step for step, glancing dispassionately at the walls around them. Soon they were standing near a line of people, and to her surprise she found that they weren't all human bureaucrats or businessmen. There were faunus, children, old men and women, and from their clothes they were from every walk of life. The only thing they had in common was that they were all wearing masks like hers.

 _Who are they?_ she would have asked, but she couldn't open her mouth with the mask on. Instead she joined the line. He guided her forward with a hand at the small of her back. Then she turned and saw the look on his face—a mix of relief and grief, so strange that she reached out to him instinctively. But he was turning away, and the line was moving, and she stumbled forward without meaning to.

She passed into a hallway, cramped and narrow, made of pale white brick. The only sound was the rustling of clothing and the gentle shuffling footfalls of the crowd. Weiss touched the mask again, this time at the spot over her eye where the scar would have been. Nothing there, just smooth, cool—

Weiss drew her hand back with a start. A drop of blood welled up from her fingertip, then beaded and fell to the floor. She stared, transfixed. Seeing the vibrant red, she realized that everything else had gone grey. She craned her neck to look at her scarf and found it was faded almost beyond recognition.

A pang of _something_ reached her. She tore the mask away, flipping it over in her hands to stare at the spot that had cut her. The red there highlighted a tiny chip in the porcelain that had been invisible to the naked eye. Her throat constricted, and Weiss flung it to the floor and felt a vicious, primal satisfaction when it shattered.

No one else noticed. She stopped, looking over her shoulder for a glimpse of Father, but there was no way back through the press. Soon the people behind her were grumbling wordlessly. They couldn't move their mouths, but they were making their displeasure known with disapproving hums and shoves. So she started walking again, casting her eyes around for an exit.

That was when she went around a bend and saw the first person disappear. At first she thought it must be some kind of staircase, but no—they were there one moment, motionless, and then they dropped out of sight. She tried to move backwards again, more urgently this time, but she couldn't get past the towering man behind her. She tried to force the line to a halt, but soon realized that the ground itself was moving, pulling them all slowly but steadily towards the drop.

_Like a conveyor belt._

She balked and gave the man a hard shove. His head cracked against the wall, dislodging his mask, and suddenly she could see his eyes—a bright indigo almost as startling as her blood had been. They were glazed over, as if he was half asleep.

"You're holding up the line," he grumbled.

"Let me through." She pushed him again, then shot a panicked glance over her shoulder and realized there were only four people in front of her now. One dropped off. _Three._ "You can cut past me, I'll just—"

He shoved her back, and she stumbled into another person, a faunus woman with an auburn tail winding behind her. "Stop!" Weiss shouted, grabbing at one of the walls and finding it worn smooth. _"Stop!_ I have to get through, just move out of the—"

The woman in front of her fell away. Weiss turned, and for the first time she was close enough to look down. And there, about fifteen feet below her, were the whirling metal teeth of a _grinder._

Weiss jerked back with a shriek, bounced off the man behind her, scrabbled for purchase on the walls. She tried to form a glyph, failed. She clung to whatever she could reach. Then the ground slipped away beneath her, and she fell.

The air rushed past her, her stomach lurched, and then her whole front was on fire and she saw a flash as her head cracked against something solid. All that was secondary—in her hands, she could feel something else, soft and warm and _alive,_ and she clung to it so hard that her fingernails broke skin.

Her feet, when she got up the courage to glance down, were hovering inches above the jaws of the machine. Jaws that were still immaculate, shining silver.

Then she was moving upwards, and as soon as she was able she let go of the arm and grabbed a fistful of a familiar black vest. Blake was staring, her face several shades paler than normal. Weiss clung to her upper arm, more carefully this time, already feeling a little bad about the marks she'd just made on her forearm.

"You're back," she said, a bit stupidly. She thought she could be forgiven considering the circumstances.

"What—You— _What the hell is that?!"_

"You think I know?!" Weiss got her feet up onto the lip of the machine, just in time to watch the big man fall. He dropped without a sound, leaving no trace, as if he'd just vanished.

"Come on!" Blake tugged on her arm. They raced down the ladder, stopping at the back of the grinder and staring at the steel tubes feeding it. Neither were armed.

Weiss, not knowing what else to do, kicked one. It only barely dented, but it _did_ dent, and then she and Blake attacked it in a frenzy, twisted at it, ignored the sharp edges that dug into their palms. When it finally broke a gout of steam went up, making both of them flinch away, and there was a horrible mechanical groan as the machine started coughing up smoke. The whirring of the blades stopped. There was a _thump,_ then a cry of anger and dismay. Suddenly one of the porcelain masks was poking over the edge, and hands were reaching for them—not to thank them, but to throttle them.

They bolted. Blake took the lead—she must have come this way before, there didn't seem to be any other entrances. Weiss noticed the mannequins only as they were sprinting past the first curtain, and her stomach twisted when she realized that their faces were just like those masks.

They didn't pose much of a threat besides fear, though. Their movements were stiff, slow, and awkward. Weiss dodged easily through a group of three, and the way Blake was weaving between them it was like they weren't there at all. More danger came farther on, where they were having their faces painted on. That was infinitely worse, not only because it was harder to evade them but because they seemed so _alive._ Either they'd stayed that way throughout the entire process, or they were now faking it well enough that Weiss could not possibly have told the difference. She wasn't sure which possibility was worse.

Soon they were surrounded by soldiers still struggling to get their uniforms on, which might have been funny if it weren't for the few that were struggling to get their _faces_ on instead. More dangerous were the ones that were dressed but unarmed, and worst of all were those that were swarming back into the building after hearing the commotion. They might have been overwhelmed, but Blake always led them unerringly through clumps of the faceless ones that were easily dodged, or the half-dressed ones that were too tangled up in their own sleeves to try and grab them.

They burst into the sunshine of the open city. There was a crowd of about thirty of the soldiers following them now, about half fully equipped. Weiss already had a stitch in her side. Blake jumped at the wall of a building across the street, grabbed a fire escape, then pulled herself onto the platform above and pelted up the stairs. Weiss managed to follow her example, much less gracefully. She scraped her hands badly enough to draw blood and had to pull her feet up to avoid the reaching hands of one of the soldiers.

Once they were on the rooftops, the going was... different. It involved much less straight running, and they moved faster than the mannequins mostly by taking implausible shortcuts. There was also a lot of jumping, climbing, vaulting, and rolling. Blake turned out to be very good at navigating an urban environment in ways Weiss never would have considered—at one point she even _crossed the street_ by jumping down onto the hood of a car and then scaling the face of an apartment building.

They lost their pursuers quickly—none of them were agile enough to follow on the rooftops, and the few who tried got stranded quickly. When they finally stopped, Weiss sank unceremoniously to her knees and was too out of breath to speak for a very long time. Blake sat next to her, both of them hidden in the space between a water tank and an air conditioning unit.

"I'm sorry." Blake leaned both elbows on her knees and stared into her lap. "I shouldn't have run off like that."

"No, you shouldn't have. Though you _did_ also just save my life."

Blake brightened a little at that. Weiss waved a finger in her direction. "But _honestly,_ isn't that exactly what I told you _not_ to do the last time this happened?

She flushed. "Sorry."

"Well?"

"What?"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Last time I didn't let you explain, which turned out to be a mistake."

"Oh."

After giving her a moment, Weiss coughed expectantly.

Blake stared down at the ground and mumbled, "He killed a guard. The man I was working with."

Weiss tensed. "Did you want him to?" She was trying to be patient with Blake, but that patience didn't reach as far as phrasing things delicately.

"No! No, I... I don't even think he meant to. The guard was... I think he was going to kill me, and it just... happened. But he'd already been causing a lot of injuries, things he used to say were accidents. Then he started saying they were justified, that it was their own fault for getting in our way. When I realized he was doing the same thing after _killing_ someone..."

"That was when you left?"

"Not right then, I had to wait until our next mission. I wanted to give him another chance. He decided to blow up a train, and when I asked about the crew..."

"So... he killed them, too?"

"He would have. I uncoupled the cars he was standing on."

Weiss let out a shaky breath, then glared at her. "That's the sort of thing you _lead with,_ Blake."

She winced and looked away. Weiss sighed, weighing the story in her head. It wasn't _good_ _,_ but... well. If some White Fang guard was about to kill Blake—or any of her teammates—she might have done the same thing.

"Remind me never to let you represent yourself in court. You'd be calling for a death sentence before the judge even got in the room."

Blake winced, both ears curling down against her head. Then she managed a little grin, more sheepish than ashamed. "So... we're okay?"

"Of course we are." Weiss folded her arms and glared again. "It's not as if _I'm_ to blame for what people I happen to know claim they're doing for my benefit.

"Speaking of which—I don't know what that thing in the office was, but I'm almost positive it wasn't Father."

Blake gaped. "You— _what?"_

"He kept talking about 'purifying his garden,' which is both off-putting and very out of character for him. It's... he cultivates the company, but it's for power and control rather than _purity._ I don't know. It's hard to explain." Most of her evidence came from the instinctive revulsion she'd felt seeing him smile, the way his eyes turned hollow when she looked at them from a certain angle. It just... wasn't him.

"I agree." Blake's brow furrowed. "But I'd been thinking more along the lines that even Jacques Schnee wouldn't try to grind up his daughter." Then, when Weiss cringed, "Sorry."

"No, you're right." She managed a weak smile. "He's not exactly the nurturing sort, but I don't think he'd try to mulch anyone, even an enemy." She didn't mention that she expected his _real_ reaction to a machine like that would have been to point out how unnecessarily messy it was.

After a while, they climbed down to look for a way out of the city. The adrenaline had long since faded. Weiss had a hard time gripping the rungs of the building's fire escape with her hands scraped raw, and there was a deep gash in one of her palms she hadn't noticed until now. Must have been from breaking the grinder. She shuddered.

Blake winced when she dropped to the ground, and Weiss realized with a guilty pang that there were marks all up and down her right forearm where her nails had dug in. Several were bleeding.

"I'm sorry about..." she trailed off. "We should find something to bind that up with."

"Don't be." Blake grimaced. "That was..."

"Yes. Yes it was."

"Let's walk around the wall," Blake suggested, pointing to the horizon. "There has to be a gap in it somewhere.

* * *

Weiss was less and less sure of that the closer they got. It was massive, standing nearly twice as tall as the complex they'd just escaped, and built from uniform white bricks. Looking at it hurt her eyes. It was too much of the same unbroken pattern, without anything to focus on. There was also nothing they could use to climb it.

Blake lay her palm flat against its surface. "I wonder how thick it is."

"Very. It'd have to be to support its own weight."

"Well... left or right?"

Weiss opened her mouth to answer, but before she could answer she glanced into an alleyway and saw someone she recognized―the redheaded faunus from earlier.

"Hey!" She raised a hand and waved. The woman's eyes went wide. She backed up a few paces, but didn't turn and run.

The two of them approached the alley's mouth. The woman stared at them for a moment, mouth slightly open. Then she grabbed Blake in a hug that was, as far as Weiss could tell, neither expected nor appreciated. "Thank you so much. If you hadn't distracted them..."

"Um... you're welcome," Weiss replied. She wasn't sure how else to respond to someone thanking you for something you had absolutely no control over, so she decided to take it as an apology for running off and leaving them behind.

Blake smiled. Now that she wasn't being half crushed, she seemed a lot happier to meet the woman. "I'm glad you're okay. Are the other two...?"

"They're safe at home. I was just out to look for my bag, but... it's probably gone by now."

"What's your name?"

"What― _oh!_ I'm sorry, I'm still a little frazzled. Cassie."

"I'm Blake, and this is Weiss."

Weiss gave her a small wave. They locked eyes. The color drained from her face.

"You're..."

"It's alright!" Weiss said hurriedly.

"But you're the―"

"We're on the run, too," Blake assured her. "It's... complicated, and we're not sure how we got here, but we're not going to hurt you. We're just trying to get out of here."

Cassie gave her an odd look. "What do you mean?"

"We want to leave the city." Blake pointed, when her blank expression didn't clear. She stared at the wall for a moment.

"You mean... _outside?"_

"Yes."

"Oh, no. That isn't done." Cassie smiled. "It's safer in here."

Blake's mouth open and closed soundlessly.

"You were just chased through the streets!" Weiss burst out. "How could outside _possibly_ be worse?!"

"You two must stay with us." She forced a smile, her ears folding back tight against her head. "It's the least we can do."

"I... okay?" Blake pointed to the wall again. "But do you know if there's a door?"

"No." She started walking down the alley, a little quicker than was natural. "I'm sure my husband will love you two."

Weiss glanced at Blake, and the two of them shared an incredulous look. There wasn't much else to do. They followed her to one of dozens of tiny rundown shacks that were squeezed together in the shadow of the wall. The hammer insignia the guards wore was spray-painted on the door.

Cassie's husband, a blond man with a lion's tail, turned out to be a lot taller than Weiss had thought. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye, and again to smile at the little boy sitting on his shoulder. He peered down at her with wide blue eyes, reached out, and tried to grab a fistful of her hair. She leaned out of the way.

"This is Linus," the father said, patting him on the head. "I'm David."

Blake and Weiss both introduced themselves, stopping only to assure the man that yes, she was _that_ Weiss, and no, she wasn't going to report them to her father. Cassie ushered them towards an overturned crate that served as their kitchen table. It was much too small for five people. She served tiny portions to herself and her husband, a heaping one to Linus, and the remainder was divided between the two guests.

"You don't have to―" Blake insisted. "I mean..."

Cassie smiled. "We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you two. Eat."

They were too hungry to argue much. The food was... _questionable,_ to put it mildly. (Weiss couldn't recognize most of the ingredients, but she hoped the strange lumps were grains of rice.) It was still the nicest thing a complete stranger had ever done for her.

Talk began in an awkward, stuttering sort of way, broken up by long silences while they all bent over their meals. Finally, David brought up the elephant in the room. "I know why we need to hide," he said, gesturing at himself, his family, and Blake. "Why do you?"

Slowly, with a lot of glances towards Linus and carefully censored details, Weiss told the story. When she finished, she glanced between the two adults. "I... there were people in line with me. All sorts of people. I don't understand... why would anyone _volunteer_ for that?"

Dead silence fell. Blake kicked her in the shin, hard. Weiss glared at her. It wasn't as if it was an unreasonable question.

Cassie nudged Linus and urged him to keep eating. Blake asked about the layout of the city, and for a moment it seemed like the conversation might be about to reboot.

"We're not allowed in the inner city, but... I can..." Cassie trailed off, and Blake jerked to her feet.

"What―" Weiss started to ask. Then she heard it. Somewhere in the distance, shattering glass.

Cassie grabbed David's arm and pulled him to his feet. "They're coming this way."

Weiss' hand went for a weapon that wasn't there. "What?"

"They're coming down the street, we need to go... take the back way..."

"To _where?!"_

The distant noises were getting closer. Even Weiss could tell it wasn't just one house―it was all of them. She backed up instinctively, looking for an exit. Blake was already at the back door, her hand outstretched, but the moment she touched the knob it was kicked open. The front window, the only one still unboarded, exploded inwards. Soldiers poured into the house.

David roared wordlessly, grabbed the stool he'd just been sitting on, and hurled it at the nearest man. He went down. Another sprang up behind him, club in hand.

"They're in here!" Someone shouted. Weiss twisted her fingers, made it halfway through the gesture before the unformed glyph slipped away from her. Then there were hands on her wrists, forcing her arms back, and she was being pressed against the wall. She twisted her head, found Blake a few feet to her left.

It was efficient, as arrests went. Within minutes they were cuffed in the back of one van. Cassie and her family were loaded into another, along with several of their neighbors. Before the doors of the vehicle slammed shut, Weiss caught a glimpse of several nearby homes burning. Then there was darkness, and silence.

"Blake?"

"Still here."

"Can you see?"

"Yes."

Her eyes adjusted as they drove. Blake was fiddling with her handcuffs, twisting at an uncomfortable angle to get a proper look at them. "Can you pass me your hairpin?"

Weiss tried, but couldn't reach it. "Well," she sighed. "That... could have gone better."

"Do you think they'll be okay?"

She bit her lip, but didn't answer. No amount of tugging or wriggling got her hands free, but she kept trying even after it became more of a nervous habit than an escape attempt. _We broke it,_ she thought, whenever she started to picture the grinder. _We broke it, that's not going to happen._

"Everything will be fine," she said aloud. "Ruby and Yang will find us, or..."

"If we manage to get out of this van, let's just look for a rope and solve this the old fashioned way."

"What exactly are you planning to tie it to?"

"Your dad. Or... the thing that's pretending to be him," Blake suggested. "We throw him over the top of the wall and use him as a counterweight."

It really, _really_ shouldn't have been funny. She smiled anyway.

* * *

The van kept driving. Blake brought her knees up to her chest. Weiss felt the absence of the other half of their team like a physical weight. More light came through the crack between the two doors, and they jerked to a halt. Both of them slid on their benches.

Then the doors opened and they were squinting at the silhouettes of two soldiers. They were half dragged, half carried outside. The van was parked in an open plaza, tiled in those same white bricks. There were guards all around its edges, and a crowd of what looked like civilians―all of them human, and all dressed crisply in black suits and white evening dresses.

Weiss and Blake were led into the center of the plaza, opposite a small podium. There was a small man standing on it, wearing the standard guard uniform. He leaned forward.

"How... do you _plead?"_

Weiss and Blake exchanged a look.

"Well," Weiss said, after a long pause, "you haven't read us the charges yet."

"The _charges?"_ The judge puffed up, enraged. Then he puffed up even more, his chest swelling grotesquely, his eyes bulging. There was a horrible squelching noise as his torso burst open, revealing two more heads. One was pitch black, horned, with glowing red eyes and lines on its face like a Grimm's. The other was alabaster white, blue-eyed, with spines jutting from its forehead in a mockery of a crown. More emerged underneath them, shrunken and misshapen and making small, pathetic wheezing sounds.

 _"Treason!"_ both main heads shrieked in unison.

"Associating with filth!" The pale head hissed.

"Kneeling like a coward!" The other roared.

"Turning your back on your family―"

"―your people! Hiding who you are!"

"Letting them _see!_ Have you forgotten everything I've taught you?"

"Everything I've done for you? What they've done to us?"

"What they'll do if you give them the chance? Letting yourself be _used_ ―"

"Letting yourself be a slave! Pretending to be human―"

"Pretending they don't want something."

"Spitting on the world we were going to build, turning your back on everyone who ever loved you and becoming another tame _pet!"_

"Running off like a fool, abandoning the company and leaving yourself wide open to a flock of obsequious _vultures!"_

They were talking faster now, shouting over one another, until the words blurred together. Spittle flew from their mouths as the pack of smaller heads shrieked and gibbered. Weiss heard only snatches, fragments, until they both went silent all at once.

 _"Unforgivable!"_ they bellowed.

"We'll have to scrap it and start over," the pale head decided.

"Burn it to the ground!"

"It's too far out of shape, now."

"Surrounded by too much _scum."_

Thick black slime oozed from the mouths of the smaller heads, pooling at the judge's feet. Weiss shied away instinctively, only to run into the soldier that stood behind her.

"A loss, of course," the pale head crooned. Its eyes fixed on her, and she glared back.

The black head turned towards Blake. "A shame."

"It was a beautiful thing―"

"―a fine dream."

The sludge poured forth in a wave, cresting and then rolling over their ankles. It reminded her of Grimm ichor, but thicker and oilier. She jerked her shoulders forward, pulling against the guard. It was up to her knees, now. She looked around, realizing that what had once been a flat plaza had bent and dipped into a bowl. Bricks rose high above their heads, pale white meeting inky black.

Blake's head hung. "I'm sorry... I don't..."

"Stop it!" Weiss lifted her chin. "That _thing_ doesn't deserve the oxygen it's breathing, let alone an apology."

"Sorry? _Sorry?"_ Red eyes rolled in their sockets. "You think you're _sorry?!"_

"Brat," the pale head sneered. "You've gone rotten."

They were both up to their waists, now. Weiss blinked hard, swallowed, but she kept staring into the monster's eyes.

"I'll _make_ you sorry! I'll make _everyone_ sorry!"

"Unfortunate. Next time I'll do better. No one will take what's mine."

Weiss could feel the oil at her throat. She turned her head to look at Blake. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "To you. Not _it."_

"What?"

She was going to go first. After _everything,_ done in early by her height of all things. That meant she wouldn't be alone when she went, but Blake would.

But there was no time to explain all that, and anyway she was sorry for a lot more. Should have apologized to Ruby for doubting her when they first became partners. To Yang, for all the times she'd picked fights when she was just trying to help. But Blake was here, and they weren't. One out of three would have to be enough.

This would be the time to say something terribly profound. But then the oil was over her head, and everything went dark and silent and strangely calm. She could hear her own heartbeat.

_I always thought I'd get more done than this._

She breathed in.


	11. 6a — A Happy Ending

Ruby tilted her head to the side, letting the morning sunlight warm her face. Her eyes fluttered shut as she savored it. The smell of fried egg wafted up from her plate, and all around her she could hear the clinking of silverware and the voices of people she loved. It felt like her head was full of honey, leaving her sleepy and content.

Eventually hunger pulled her out of the moment. "Can I have the salt?" She reached out towards the opposite end of the table. Her mom smiled and handed her the shaker.

"Thanks!"

"I already put some on," dad pointed out. "You should taste it first." Ruby stuck her tongue out at him and shook her hand vigorously. At least a teaspoon of salt cascaded down onto her plate. Yang, traitor that she was, started laughing.

"Hey! It's not funny!"

"I _did_ warn you."

"Ugh, fine, but—Zwei! Stop that!" The whole family whipped around to stare through the doorway into the living room. Ruby grabbed her sister's plate and swapped it with her own just as everyone turned back. Across the table, Raven caught her eye and smirked.

Ruby took a huge bite of her sister's breakfast. "You know, this is actually pretty good!"

Yang stared at her incredulously. Then, shrugging, she stabbed a bit of egg with her fork.

"Whatever. To each her—ah!" Making a face like she'd just bitten into a lemon, she grabbed her napkin and spat it out.

"You did this, didn't you?!" she accused, slamming a fist into the table and pointing. Ruby snickered, shoved the rest of Yang's egg into her mouth, and bolted.

"Get back here!"

Ruby ducked under her sister's reaching arm and sprinted into the living room. Skidding to a stop in the hallway, she darted to the right—and slammed into something solid. A pair of strong hands lifted her up by the arms, and she felt her feet leave the ground.

"Watcha doin', squirt?" Uncle Qrow asked, smirking.

"Lemme go!" Ruby squirmed, kicking her legs and glancing fearfully behind her. Just as her uncle put her down, Yang came barreling around the corner.

"You poisoned me!"

Ruby eeped and ducked behind Qrow's legs. He glanced between the two of them and chuckled. "It's too early for this," he decided, taking a swig of the orange juice in his hand. She stared at the glass, transfixed. Something heavy slammed into her side.

"Gotcha!" Yang crowed. Ruby tried to wriggle out of her sister's grip as her knuckles pressed against her scalp.

"Ow, hey!" She lurched sideways and knocked them both over onto the carpet. They landed in a heap, breathless from laughter.

"Cute." Uncle Qrow prodded her with his foot. She slapped at it playfully. "Don't you rugrats have school to go to?"

"Oh, yeah!" Yang leaped to her feet. He made a shooing motion with his free hand and the pair of them took off toward the stairs.

On their way up, they passed Raven standing in the doorway with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. Yang tossed a "Hey, mom!" over her shoulder before climbing up to their room. Ruby paused for a moment, staring curiously at the book Raven held under her arm.

"Earth to Ruby." Raven snapped her fingers in front of her nose.

"Right, school!" Ruby charged toward the bathroom. She reached out, grabbed the handle, stepped over the threshold—and was yanked back.

"Dibs!" Yang called out, and slammed the door.

"You suck!"

Grumbling under her breath, Ruby ducked into their room to change clothes and shove books into her bag. By the time she'd done all that, and sat around doing nothing for ages, she _finally_ heard the bathroom door open. She shouldered past Yang as she came out, ignoring her startled yelp. That was just karma.

Barely ten minutes later—you know, a _normal_ amount of time to spend in the bathroom—she rushed headlong down the stairs and stopped at the front door, fidgeting quietly. There was a soft giggle from behind her. Ruby turned and found her mom sitting at the kitchen table, dangling her keys from one finger.

"You're early," she said, smiling.

"I would've been earlier if _someone_ hadn't hogged the bathroom." Ruby shifted from foot to foot, swaying like her un—like she was drunk?

"Are you alright, honey?"

"'Course!" Ruby beamed. Her mother ruffled her hair and laughed.

"Good, you're all ready!" She looked up and saw that Raven was helping Yang into her jacket. It suddenly occurred to her that it was winter outside.

"Um...?"

"Right here, sweetheart." Summer handed Ruby her coat.

"Thanks, mom!"

"Good luck at the café," Raven added, giving Yang a little push. "I'll pick them up later, okay?"

"Sounds great!"

Summer opened the door, letting a strip of brilliant light fall across the kitchen floor. Ducking under her arm, Ruby was struck by the scent of roses. She froze, enraptured, until Yang almost knocked her over trying to follow her. Shrugging it off—mom always smelled like that—she stopped dawdling and ran outside.

* * *

"I hate everything," Yang announced, when they finally stepped through the front door again. Ruby groaned agreement and collapsed into the nearest chair. Tests were bad enough, oral exams were just _evil._

"C'mon." Yang prodded her shoulder. "Let's go upstairs."

Hauling herself to her feet, she followed her sister into their room and flopped face-down on her bed. Yang burst out laughing. That got Ruby started too, and she ended up leaning her head on her sister's shoulder, struggling to catch her breath.

There was a knock on the door, and dad poked his head inside. "Are you two done with your homework yet?"

Yang grinned. "Nope! Just got back."

"Well, you'd better get on that."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Dad?" Ruby said.

"What's up?"

"Is mom home yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Oh. Okay!" The door clicked shut, and Yang turned to look at her curiously.

"What was that about?"

Ruby shrugged and looked at her lap. "I don't know. It's just that she's usually back by now."

"Not always. Remember last Friday?"

She did. Summer had gotten home almost two hours later than normal—apparently she'd been held up talking to an old friend. Sometimes she stopped to get groceries, or take a walk through the park. There wasn't anything weird about it. There _wasn't._

Yang looked over at her, frowning. "I... I think we're having fish tacos. You like those, right?"

"They're okay," she said coyly.

_"Okay,_ huh? Is that why you stole half of mine the last time dad made them?"

"Yang!" Her sister smirked until they both started laughing again—and Ruby was content.

* * *

They spent the next hour following dad's advice and doing some homework. It was hard to focus with Yang in the room—she kept shifting around, kicking her legs (and sometimes Ruby), and being _super annoying._ Still, she finished everything that was due tomorrow, and she even had a little time before dinner to do something else. She wasn't sure what yet. Bothering Uncle Qrow was always fun, and dad might need some help in the kitchen... but mom still wasn't home. Ruby knew this was normal, but that didn't stop her from pacing around the room, listening for the sound of the front door opening.

"You're making me dizzy," Yang said, when she was on her fourth lap.

"Ugh, sorry. I'm just antsy."

"She'll be here soon."

Ruby sighed and glanced at her sister. There was a strange look on her face, and even though she couldn't figure out what it meant it made it hard to feel very reassured. She went back to pacing.

Somewhere on the first floor, the front door opened and shut _._ Ruby bolted out of their room without bothering to check if Yang was following. Once she reached the front door, she skidded to a halt. Raven dropped her keys on the table and shucked off her jacket. She raised an eyebrow when she noticed Ruby staring.

"What's up?"

"Mom isn't back yet?" Ruby glanced at the door. Raven almost always got home late, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore the niggling feeling in the back of her mind that something was wrong.

"Sorry, kid." Raven patted her head. "I'm sure she's fine, but I'll shoot her a text if you want."

"Okay."

Ruby turned to go back upstairs, but just then Yang came up behind her. She frowned when she noticed her mom. "Summer still isn't here?"

"No," Raven said dryly. "Nice to see you, too, by the way." Yang flushed and stammered. Usually she took jokes like that more in stride, but Ruby couldn't really make fun of her for it—not when she was turning almost as red and flailing her arms in embarrassment.

"Are you two done with your homework yet?" They nodded, eager to change the subject.

"Then why don't you entertain yourselves for a bit? Tai's making dinner, and Summer will be back soon." Ruby grimaced. She'd almost started feeling better about that.

The pair of them trudged obediently back upstairs, but entertaining themselves wasn't easy. Ruby just couldn't focus, not even when Yang offered to read to her. She still didn't turn it down. She'd always loved curling up together with an old favorite, and now that they were both in middle school it happened a lot less often.

As the story went on, Ruby tried to relax. Yang was warm, the book was one of her all time favorites, and for once she hadn't even had to bug her into reading it. Everything was wonderful.

Except sometimes Yang would clench her jaw as she turned the pages, glancing at the clock and the door. Every time, it got harder to dismiss the feeling as being irrational. She tried closing her eyes and leaning her head on her sister's shoulder, but even then she could feel her breath hitch, like she'd just taken another peek at the time...

Ruby gave up. With a distressed whine, she threw her arms around Yang and buried her face in her shoulder. Her breath came in great shuddering gasps, and the book of fairy tales she'd loved since childhood slipped off the bed and landed on the floor with a thump.

"Hey," Yang murmured, wrapping her up in a tight hug. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know! It's just that mom's not back yet and I _know_ I'm being dumb but—"

A hand carded through her hair, brushing it gently behind her ear. "You're not being dumb. I'm worried, too."

Ruby whimpered. It was a nice thought and all, but knowing she wasn't the only one freaking out wasn't even a little bit comforting. Yang tried rubbing her back, which felt amazing but didn't change the fact that things _weren't okay._

"Raven—" Yang paused, and Ruby could feel her tense up. "Mom said she'd text her."

"Yeah, like half an hour ago!"

There was a long silence, after that. Yang didn't seem to know what to say, so she just kept stroking her hair. They stayed like that a while, because either they were both being _really_ dumb in the exact same way, or something was wrong and this was going to be the last time they spent not knowing about it.

So Ruby shut her eyes and hoped desperately that Raven or dad or uncle Qrow wouldn't walk through that door, because if they did she just _knew_ they would have that look on their face. The one that said, 'I'm about to shatter your life into a billion tiny pieces.' She must have seen that look before—she just couldn't remember when.

She was about to try talking to Yang again (because literally _anything_ was better than her own brain right now) when she heard something. A light click somewhere downstairs. The sound of a door opening. She and Yang catapulted to their feet, leaping down the stairs four and five at a time.

There, with one hand on the doorknob and the other wrapped around her purse, stood Summer. All coherent thought shut down. Ruby launched herself into the air, latching onto her mother and squeezing as tightly as she could. Judging by the elbow jammed into her side and the way mom staggered, Yang had done the same.

"I love you too," Summer wheezed, dropping the bag and grabbing the doorframe to steady herself. She tried to look at her children through a faceful of hair. "Qrow didn't let you watch one of those movies again, did he?"

"Nope," Ruby replied, voice muffled by Summer's jacket. There was a zipper digging into her cheek.

Behind them, dad chuckled. "Let her breathe, girls." The arm around her back pulled away as Yang let go. Ruby didn't move.

"Sweetheart," Summer said, amused. "Can I at least take off my coat first?"

"No."

Dad started laughing again.

"Tai!" Summer whined. "Help me!"

"Why?" asked Raven dryly. "You look so comfortable."

There was a tug at the back of her shirt, and Ruby grumbled something. She wasn't sure what she was trying to say, but after a moment she let herself be coaxed back onto her own two feet.

"Where were you?" Yang demanded. A hand rested on Ruby's shoulder, and she leaned into the contact. It was steadying. Familiar.

"I'm so sorry!" Crouching down, Summer looked up at the two sisters and smiled. "I got caught up talking to an old friend, and then I realized I left my phone at the café..."

"Yeah, it's gone," Qrow said helpfully.

Her mother shot him a glare, before standing up and clapping her hands together. "Well, since we're all here... why don't we make some cookies?"

"Yes!" Ruby crowed. Summer reached down to ruffle her hair. Beside her, Yang started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

"Are you three going to help?" her mom asked, glancing at the other adults.

Raven shook her head. "I'd just burn them."

"I think it'll be good for you three to have some time to yourselves," dad decided.

Uncle Qrow had already left to do... whatever it was he did when he was home.

"Well," Summer said, when they were alone in the kitchen. "I guess that means they don't want any..."

"Don't even think about it!" someone shouted—maybe Raven or Qrow, probably both at once.

Ruby giggled. It felt good to relax, after the tense afternoon. Judging by the way she was spinning a mixing bowl on her finger, Yang felt the same.

"Right!" Summer clapped her hands together. "Yang, you're on dry ingredients. Ruby, you mix up the eggs and the vanilla. I'll get started on the sugar and junk."

"Bonzai!" Yang whooped.

Ruby grabbed a pair of jumbo eggs (one in each hand; the temptation to juggle them was strong), and Yang slid her a measuring jug. She put down one of the eggs, then focused her attention on slamming the other one into the rim—gently, but not so gently that bits of shell flaked off. Sticking out her tongue in concentration, she lined up her shot... her hands kept shaking... she leaned on the counter to steady them... and... lunged!

The egg split nearly in half, and a bit of shell fell into the jug with a wet _plop._

"Aw..." Ruby mumbled, poking at the goop and fishing it out.

_This one,_ she thought, snatching up the other egg. _This one is the one that'll actually break right!_

The shaking was even worse now, probably because she'd messed up her first try. Her confidence was all fried, and she knew there was someone she should be asking for help right about now, someone with really steady hands. But she didn't like to bake?

Ruby tapped the measuring jug lightly with the egg. _Carefully... carefully..._

Her hand tensed, and the egg shattered. Slime dripped through her clenched fist, running down her wrist and making a tiny puddle on the floor. For a moment, Yang and Summer both stared. Then, they cracked up.

"Guys!" she said indignantly. "It's not funny!"

"I'm s-sorry, honey," her mom choked out, between muffled snickers. "Let's get you cleaned up." She took Ruby gently by the wrist. Her hands were unpleasantly clammy, probably from when she'd washed them earlier.

Ruby stuck her hands under the sink. The warm water was a shock compared to the temperature in the kitchen, and she winced as her fingers prickled. Behind her, Yang bent down to wipe the yolk off the floor.

_I should've done_ _that._ She turned her hand over, watching as it reflected the fluorescent light overhead and turned a pale, sickly blue.

"Ruby?" Summer asked, pointing at the measuring jug. "There's another egg on the counter."

"Oh. Right."

She managed to get the egg into the bowl this time, and started mixing it up. Pouring a dash of vanilla into a spoon—more than a dash, actually, her hands were shaking so much that precise measurements were kinda hard—she tipped it into the yellow mush. It spread out like a fungus, turning the whole thing a swampy brown. Ruby usually loved the way it smelled, but it was suddenly so strong it made her want to retch.

Walking around the island, she watched Yang trying (very unsuccessfully) to measure out a tablespoon of salt with a teaspoon. Then she turned to Summer just in time to see her strolling out into the hall.

She followed, still holding the jug in one hand. It wasn't until her mother turned around and made a surprised noise that she realized she'd left the kitchen.

"Ruby! What are you doing out here?"

"Um... I wanted to ask you something?"

"Alright, sweetheart. I just need to use the bathroom first."

"Oh." Ruby ground her toe into the floor and stared at her socks. "Okay. I'll... be in the kitchen."

"Is everything alright?"

"Y-yeah!" Ruby tried to perk up. She was fine, she _was!_ She just couldn't seem to make herself walk away.

"Tell your sister to stop using the same spoon for everything, will you?" Summer smiled conspiratorially. Ruby nodded, and her mother disappeared into the bathroom. The door shut with a very final-sounding _click._

"Right..." she mumbled, forcing herself to turn around and trudge back to the kitchen. Yang was holding the spoon up to the light, tongue poking out as she stared down a small pile of salt.

"Does this look like three eighths to you?"

"Yang, mom says to stop being dumb and use the other spoons."

"I've got this! Less stuff to wash, right?"

Raising an eyebrow—a defense mechanism for when Yang was being _really_ strange—Ruby glared at her. "Why are you _really_ doing that?"

Yang deflated. "I can't find the tablespoon. Happy?"

"Okay..." Ruby really wasn't sure she wanted to know, but... "You know there are three teaspoons in a tablespoon, right?"

Her sister looked up from her unnecessarily arcane calculations and blinked. Twice. It made her look a bit like Zwei that time they'd tried to ask him for help with math homework.

"Aw come on, seriously?" Ruby groaned. "How much have you put in?"

"Four and... three fifths."

"Ugh, you are the worst sometimes!"

"It's not my fault, it's the stupid imperial system!"

"What?! Everyone uses teaspoons, it's like... universal!"

"Nuh-uh! Metric tablespoons are different."

Ruby stamped her foot, fuming. "Yang! Stop being such a... a troglodyte!"

Yang cocked her head. "What did you just call me?"

Her eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry! It's just... I mean, I... I don't know, I'm feeling kind of stressed right now and I really want some cookies and did you have to go overboard on _salt_ of all things because—"

Yang made a timeout sign with her hands. "No, seriously." She scratched the back of her neck. "What did you call me?"

"Um... I think it means caveman?"

"Where'd you even learn that?" Yang asked, laughing.

"I don't remember..." Ruby frowned. "I guess it's not important."

Yang shot her an odd look, then shrugged. "Whatever. She looked up, forehead crinkling as she scrunched up her face. "Where's m—uh, where's Summer?"

"Boo."

Watching her sister jump almost a foot in the air would've been funnier if Ruby hadn't done the same thing. Summer leaned against the doorframe, wearing a satisfied smirk.

"Mom!" Ruby yelped. "You scared us!"

"Sorry, sweetheart. I couldn't resist."

Ruby sprinted over and glomped her. Summer staggered under the weight, letting out a low _oof_ as she braced herself against the wall.

"You're getting stronger," she wheezed.

Ruby squeezed tighter, burying her head into Summer's shoulder and doing her best to lose herself in the faint scent of roses—but she could hardly smell it through all the dust and sweat, and the mound of salt in Yang's mixing bowl.

"Well, girls," Summer said, when she managed to extricate herself from Ruby's hug, "Let's finish up."

It only took a few minutes to get everything mixed up, though the little puffs of flour their stirring kicked up were a constant annoyance. Every time Ruby turned around it seemed like there was a new cloud of powder making her sneeze. The sensation niggled at her, like part of the title of a book she'd read a long time ago and mostly forgotten.

Once the cookies all ended up in the oven (which Ruby may have forgotten to preheat), she was quick to make her excuses and head upstairs. Yang followed right after her, and she realized there had probably been a weird look on her face that she was going to be interrogated about. When she finally made it to their room, her legs stopped cooperating and she faceplanted on the closest bed—which happened to be Yang's. She could feel the blanket pressing against her face, and it was sort of hard to breathe like that but it was so soft...

The bed creaked again, and a weight settled just above her head. "Hey," Yang said softly, resting a hand on her back. Ruby grumbled something into the mattress.

"I... have no idea what you just said."

"Neither do I," Ruby admitted.

"It's okay." Yang's weight shifted. "She's back now, right? She's fine."

"I know." Sitting up, she turned to face her sister. "It's just... I don't know, I keep feeling like..." she trailed off.

"Like?" Yang prompted, after a moment.

"I don't know, wrong! Like there's something weird or off, but I can't tell what it is!" Ruby opened one eye to peek at Yang's expression. For a moment she just sat there with her brow furrowed. Then...

"Thank god, I thought it was just me!"

"Wait, what?"

"I mean, something seems weird about..." Yang waved a hand, as if to indicate the universe in general. "I felt like I was losing my mind when—when Summer was late."

"What do we do, then?"

Yang frowned, obviously deep in thought. "We look around," she decided. "Maybe we can figure out what's causing it, and... I don't know, fix it?"

"...Okay."

She stood up, stretched, and looked around the room. "Where do we start?" she asked, with a strained grin.

Ruby sat on the bed, kicking her feet and screwing up her face in concentration, until an idea hit her. "You know how we used to play that game?"

"Game?"

"The one where one of us hides something, and the other one has to find it?"

"...Yes?"

"Well, the one hiding it would have to say if they were getting hot or cold, right? So if something seems wrong... we head toward it, because it's 'hot', right?"

Yang grinned. "Sure. Let's go!"

Nothing in the room seemed that off, so they decided to head out into the hall instead. Almost immediately, Ruby felt the back of her neck prickle.

"Warmer," she whispered.

They decided not to go downstairs—neither of them wanted to explain to dad why they were snooping around. At first it seemed as though they were going to come up empty, but then Ruby got to the end of the hallway and the odd feeling doubled. She glanced around, then tilted her head up. Just above her head was a trapdoor.

Yang noticed where she was looking. "It's coming from the attic? Why _hello,_ every horror movie I've ever seen."

"Why would you say that?!" Ruby hissed. "Now there's gonna be an axe-murderer up there!"

"We should check it out."

Ruby ducked behind her sister and poked her once in the back. "Yeah," she agreed. "You go first, 'cause... you know, you're older."

"Thanks. If I get axe-murdered, I'm totally gonna haunt you."

Slowly, as if the pull-down cord might bite, Yang crept forward. Reached out. Tugged. And... _slam!_

They recoiled with twin yelps as the staircase slid down and hit the floor with a loud bang. Dad called out from downstairs. "Girls! Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Ruby squeaked. Cleared her throat. "Yeah! Yang knocked over a chair!"

Once the dust had settled—and there was a _lot_ of it—they climbed into the attic. Ruby reached up and flicked the light switch. Flicked it again. Flipped it frantically back and forth.

Yang laughed, though there was a brittle edge to it. "That settles it, we're totally in a slasher movie. I'm gonna get a flashlight."

"I'll come with you!" Ruby said hurriedly, grabbing hold of her sister's arm.

A few minutes later, they were both armed—sort of—and the attic looked gross rather than terrifying. There were more spiders than Ruby was comfortable with, but it was monster-free. Then again, some of the dust bunnies might have been big enough to count. She sneezed.

"Okay." Yang whipped the beam of her flashlight around. "Colder... colder... ooh, warmer!" Ruby felt a little better—this whole situation was way too lame for a horror movie.

Or it was, until the light settled on an innocuous-looking old box. The second she looked at it alarm bells started going off in the pit of her stomach.

"Burning," she whispered.

Yang shoved a pile of old clothes off the box and dragged it into the middle of the room. Ruby's hand hovered over the lid, and she was reminded suddenly of the feeling of going to her locker in the winter. She'd take off her coat, get ready to hang it up... and she'd just _know_ that she was about to get a static shock. She had to touch it, but the moment leading up to it—tensed, anxious, dreading the coming spark—was exactly like this.

"Just open it," Yang whispered. Ruby swallowed hard and pushed up the lid. And, inside...

"Photographs?" She lifted one out and pointed the flashlight at it. Uncle Qrow and Raven stood side by side, laughing. His hair was rumpled like he'd just been outside on a windy day, and she was holding a little bundle in her arms. A frizz of blonde hair poked out from inside it.

Dropping the photo, she dug around in the box for more. "They're all of our parents," she realized.

"I was expecting an alien or something." Yang grabbed one of the pictures. "This is cute, but kinda underwhelming."

She leaned in to see what her sister was looking at. It was Summer, leaning her chin on Ruby's head and smiling.

"I..." she began, then froze. She'd spotted another photograph near her foot, one of both her and Yang beaming at the camera. It looked like she was about ten in that picture... so why didn't she remember it being taken? And why was she wearing a cape? It seemed ridiculous, but something about it was so familiar.

Yang peered over her shoulder, then frowned. "Where'd you get that from?" she asked, pointing at the cape.

"I don't know."

She ran her thumb across the photograph's glossy surface and felt another stab of that weird, off-kilter feeling. One of Yang's arms was slung across her shoulders, and she was making a thumbs-up with the other. There was a bright yellow bracelet on her wrist she was sure her sister didn't own.

"We should go." Ruby looked up, startled. Yang's voice was shaky. She held a picture of herself when she was five, sitting in Raven's lap. Her grip was staring to crumple it.

"Huh? But we just got here!"

Yang lurched to her feet and shoved the photographs back into their box. "Come on. It's... we can look at them later. Tomorrow morning, maybe."

"Um... okay."

The box was returned to its rightful place, and the two of them went back to their room. Yang sat down heavily on her bed, looking pale.

"Are you alright?"

Yang rubbed at her forehead. "We shouldn't have gone up there."

"Okay. We'll stay down here now, if you want."

"It's not just that." Yang crossed her arms, hugging them against her stomach. "We need to stop."

Ruby cocked her head, confused.

"I mean..." Yang jerked her thumb at the ceiling. "We need to stop digging into this."

"Why? That was _weird,_ right? I don't remember being in some of those, and that cape—"

Yang cringed. "Something bad is gonna happen," she insisted. "I can just tell, okay?"

Ruby nodded reluctantly. "Okay."

"No, seriously!" Yang poked her gently in the forehead. "I mean it. No more provoking that... whatever it is. We never talk about it again. Just... forget it. Agreed?"

"Girls?" Summer called from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"

Ruby locked eyes with Yang. "Agreed."


	12. 6b — Ere We Were

Yang lay awake in bed for a long time, listening to Ruby breathe. When she was sure her little sister was asleep, she slipped out from under the covers and padded across the room to her dresser, where she retrieved two small objects she'd hidden there before she went to bed. She opened the door as quietly as she could and slipped into the hall.

The attic stairs were harder, but she managed to ease them to the floor with a few creaks rather than a crash to wake the house. She pulled out the first thing she'd brought from her room, her flashlight, and clicked it on. Then she stood there for a while, breathing in the musty smell.

Upstairs, the box was right where she'd left it. She swallowed hard and dragged it over to the stairs. It was heavy, but she managed to lug it all the way down to the first floor. The only close call came when she was passing Uncle Qrow's room. He slept with the door ajar, and she heard a sleepy mumble. She bolted, bare feet nearly silent on the carpeted floor.

Yang slipped out the back door and out into the yard, then set the box down on the ground. She steeled herself before shoving the lid open again. Immediately the wrongness sent her heart hammering.

She hadn't meant to look at them, but the corner of one caught her eye. Her stomach lurched and she reflexively pushed the trunk a little further away. The photo covering it shifted, and suddenly she couldn't stop staring.

She and Ruby were in the photo, but she hardly even noticed that. Her eyes were drawn to the two strangers—both girls about her age. One of them was white-haired and haughty-looking. She was trying to escape Ruby's arm slung over her shoulder, even as she failed to hide a small smile from the camera. The other's amber eyes were startled wide, as if she hadn't realized someone was taking her picture. A book lay across her lap, with one of her fingers trapped between its pages.

Yang's mouth worked open and closed for a long moment. Then she retrieved the other item she'd taken from her dresser—a book of matches. She struck one, dropped it into the box, and watched as the too-familiar faces curled and blackened.

* * *

The next morning, Yang woke in a cold sweat. Grumbling something unintelligible, she did her best to block the sun with one hand and sat up. In the bed across the room, Ruby whimpered in her sleep.

Yang could sympathize. She could remember dreaming... _something,_ though it had faded into distant impressions. Looking down, she flexed her right hand.

It took her a moment to remember it was Saturday, and another to realize that it was already well into the afternoon. That was normal for her, but Ruby had always been a morning person. Yang frowned, got to her feet, and yanked the covers off her little sister.

"Mm... no..." Ruby grabbed at the sheets.

Yang prodded her cheek. "Wake up, Ruby."

Ruby slapped at her hand and opened bleary eyes. "What time is it?" she rasped.

"Yikes. It's about two, and I'm getting you some water."

"Thanks!"

Yang tipped her a wink, then ducked into the hallway. Her bare feet scuffed against the carpet, and for a moment she could almost believe that last night had all been one giant, messed up dream.

"Hello, Yang," said a voice from behind her. Yang started to return the greeting, but the words died in her throat as she turned around. Summer was standing there, one hand on the banister and the other hanging loosely at her side. She was smiling, but it was as though there was something opaque just behind her silver eyes. Her expression looked plastic. Wrong.

Yang stumbled backwards and would have taken a header down the stairs if she hadn't managed to grab the railing in time. "What's wrong?" Summer tilted her head to one side. Her voice sounded almost normal, but something was missing. It was as if she was reading from a script.

"Nothing!" Yang retreated into her room, slammed the door, then fumbled for the knob and locked it. There was a knock from the other side. Ruby opened her mouth as if to say something, only to be frantically shushed.

"Yang? Are you alright?" Summer called.

"Yeah! Just... still tired! I'm gonna grab a nap!"

Ruby stared at her, halfway between confused and incredulous. She rubbed her eyes, as if all this strange behavior was just some leftover dream she could scrub away. It would have been nice, really.

When Summer didn't say anything else, Yang let herself sag bonelessly to the floor with a muffled groan. Her breath came faster and faster, until she got so dizzy she had to lean her head against the door.

Ruby knelt down beside her. "What happened?"

"Something's wrong."

"No _duh!_ I kinda figured that from all the door-slamming!"

"No, I mean... there's something wrong with Summer."

"What?!" Ruby grabbed her shoulder. "Wrong how?"

There was another knock at the door, and both of them jumped. "Girls? Would you let me in, please? I need to know if you're okay."

Yang stood up, ready to put her shoulder to the door and make sure it _stayed_ shut, but Ruby had already ducked under her arm and unlocked it. Just like that, the flimsy barrier between her Summer disappeared.

It had been bad enough seeing Summer for the first time, but watching Ruby react to it was infinitely worse. Her face fell in an instant, moving through shock and horror into a kind of desperate longing. Then she hid behind Yang.

"We're fine, Summer." Yang forced herself to speak in a calm, even tone.

"If you're sure..." She seemed skeptical, but Yang just bulled past her and into the hallway, dragging Ruby behind her.

She wasn't sure what she was looking for. She just prowled from room to room, holding Ruby's hand and trying not to think. There had to be something around that might explain what was going on, some way to fix it. Maybe dad would know what to do, or... or...

She skidded to a halt, realizing that Raven was already in the kitchen. For a moment, her mother stared at her with glazed, impassive eyes. Then, a plastic smile spread across her face. There was two jars on the counter, peanut butter and mayonnaise. It looked like she was trying to make a sandwich.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Her concerned frown didn't reach her eyes.

Yang faked a grin. "Nothing! I'll just be, uh... over here!"

"That's nice. I love you." Yang's skin crawled. She sprinted through the doorway and into the hall. When she stopped, Ruby crashed into her side and clung to her shirt.

"What do we do? I mean... what's wrong with them?!"

"I don't know!" Yang snapped. Then she saw her sister's wounded expression and winced. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know."

"We should get out of here. If... if they're not our parents..." Her voice cracked. "It might be dangerous."

"Right. Yeah."

But before they could move, a hand fastened itself around her arm. She yelped and tried to pull away, then realized who it was. "Dad?" A pit opened in her stomach as she imagined him giving her another empty greeting. But then she really looked at him and almost melted with relief. His eyes were wild, his every muscle tensed with some emotion she didn't want to try to place—but he was himself.

"Dad!" Yang said. "What's going on? Mom and Raven are acting really weird!"

"I'm sorry. I don't... just leave it. Please. It's safer that way."

Ruby poked her head out from behind Yang's shoulder. "What do you mean safer? What's _happening?"_

"You have to stop, it's coming apart. Whatever this is... just stop."

"We're trying!" A molten heat flared in Yang's gut, and for a moment she thought she could remember standing in the heart of an inferno, seeing red—red light, red hair, red _sword_. Her father slumped to the floor and rested his head between his knees.

"Dad!" Ruby reached out to touch his arm. "You're scaring us!"

Feeling suddenly dizzy, Yang tried to lean against the wall—but the moment she touched it, the plaster cracked and flaked off in dusty sheets. She pulled her hand away as if it was on fire.

"Girls! Tai!" Qrow emerged from the living room, his whole body tense and his eyes darting all around the room. He looked different, too unkempt and too well-trimmed all at once, but he was still her uncle and Yang threw her arms around him.

Ruby grabbed onto him, too, and tangled a hand in the hem of his coat. "What's going on?!"

His expression turned hazy for a moment. "Raven is making lunch..." he murmured, half-asleep. Then he blinked, shook his head, and groped at his hip. "Where... where do you keep the scotch, Tai?"

"What?!" her father hissed, incensed. "You want a drink _now,_ of all times?"

He didn't seem to notice dad's glare. "There's nothing in the fridge. I can't find it anywhere..."

"Uncle Qrow!" Yang shook his shoulder. "What's happening? What did we do?!"

"Do?" Qrow swayed on his feet, touched his hip again.

"Girls!" Raven called out. "Lunch is ready!"

"I don't understand it," dad whispered, putting a hand on their shoulders. "But it's... it's okay. Everything's okay. We just have to leave it alone."

He went into the kitchen. Yang shared a frightened, baffled glance with Ruby before following him. Raven and Summer were both already seated at the table, digging into a pair of sandwiches.

Yang eyed her own lunch warily, then peeled it apart. Turkey, thank _god._ She wanted nothing to do with that abomination Raven was making earlier.

"You two slept awfully late," Raven teased.

"Did you stay up late playing that video game again?" asked Summer.

Yang risked a glance at them, then stared at her plate. "Yeah." It was easier than explaining that she'd struggled for hours to find sleep, seeing two strangers' faces whenever she closed her eyes.

Raven smirked and waggled a finger at them. For a moment, her expression seemed almost real—more a twisted reflection than something that had been painted on. Then, it vanished, replaced with a warm smile. The smile that used to make Yang feel safe.

"No point wasting the whole day. I know you like to sleep in—"

"Well, Yang does," Summer said. "I'm surprised Ruby didn't wake you up."

Yang glanced at her little sister and saw that she was picking at her food, refusing to meet anyone else's eyes. She'd sat between her and Qrow, rather than her usual place next to Summer.

"Well, they _are_ teenagers," Raven said. "What's your excuse, Qrow?"

"None of your business." The table went silent. Qrow swirled the juice in his cup and scowled at it like it had just insulted his grandmother.

"Dude." Dad slapped Uncle Qrow on the arm. "That was uncalled for."

"Yeah, right." He stood up to his full height and slapped the glass of orange juice off the table. It shattered. The rest of the family sat there, frozen. Yang wished she could get away with doing the same. She didn't _want_ to sit there and listen to stupid smalltalk, she just wanted to be alone, or maybe up in her room with Ruby. Reading to her had been nice... she could do that again.

Raven looked absolutely _livid._ She stood up as well, glaring after her brother, and gripped a fork until it bent.

"Sweetheart..." Tai moved as if to touch her hand. She slapped it away, and for an instant her eyes were sharp and focused.

"What—" she began, then frowned. Her expression clouded over. "...He didn't clean up."

Summer laughed nervously. "He's always been a bit of a slob. And moody, too..."

Yang couldn't tear her eyes away from her mother. She was sure now that the real Raven was in there, somewhere. If she could snap her out of it for a second, maybe she could get some answers.

"Mom?" Dad put out a hand—silently begging her not to do it. "Can I ask you something... um, in the living room?"

"Of course." She was still staring off into space. Her legs moved stiffly, pushing her to her feet and propelling her into the hall. Yang followed, shooting what she hoped was a reassuring grin at Ruby.

In the other room, Raven put a hand on her shoulder. It was freezing—Yang tried not to flinch. "What's wrong, honey?"

"You." Raven cocked her head. She looked confused, not angry.

"I don't understand."

"You—You're, um, acing all weird," Yang stammered. Her gut clenched. "Why are you even here, if—if you're not going to... to..." the sentence trailed off, unfinished. Yang couldn't remember what she was about to say.

"Of course I'm here," Raven murmured, putting both hands on her shoulders. "I'm always here for you."

Something _snapped._

"No, you're not!" Yang hissed, shoving her away. "I saw you just now—that's how you really are, isn't it? Some angry _witch_ that can't even act like a normal person around her own brother!" Her heart was pounding, and she wasn't sure where the words were coming from, but she couldn't have stopped now if she'd wanted to. "You're only pretending! Summer was my real mother!"

It wasn't until she saw Raven's face darken that Yang realized she'd succeeded. She backed away in a sudden panic. This had been the plan all along, but that was just a great example of why Ruby was the strategist of the family.

 _"What_ did you just say?!" Raven snarled, drawing herself up to her full height. Her hand clenched around Yang's forearm like a vice, and for an instant she was afraid her mother might actually _hit_ her.

Then, the anger faded—but the clarity did not.

"I'm glad. She was always better at that than I was."

Yang swallowed hard. "This is you, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" Raven stared at her. Yang thought this must be what squirrels feel like, when they see a hawk and all they can do is _freeze._

"I, um..."

"Raven, sweetheart!" Dad called out from the kitchen. "Is everything okay?"

She watched in abject horror as her mother's spine went ramrod straight. Then, slowly, she relaxed—and the air in front of her face shimmered and coalesced into something solid and white. It looked for a moment like she was turning to stone, but then the shapeless mass sharpened into what could only be the face of a monster. Yang fell back, landing sprawled against the foot of the couch and staring up at what _had_ been her mother. A sword appeared from nowhere, sheathed at her hip. She drew it.

Dad walked into the living room and went pale as a sheet.

"Pathetic," Raven spat, moving the tip of the sword in lazy circles.

"Raven..." Dad backed away. He hit a wall and blanched again. She took a step forward, then another. His eyes darted around the room, before meeting Yang's—and pure terror shot across his face. "Not here!" He raised his hands in surrender. "Not in front of—"

The sword crashed into the wall behind him. Yang screamed, but he'd managed to duck and roll to the side. "Qrow!" he shouted. "Get them out of here!"

"What?" her uncle mumbled, as he wandered back into the room. He took in the scene in an instant, red eyes darting between the three people in the room. The fog lifted from him, and he sprinted to where Yang lay. Then he swung her over his shoulder and bolted for the kitchen. Raven let them leave.

"Wait!" she cried out. "Dad!"

"He'll be fine. Let's just get you—" he skidded to a stop, and Yang took the opportunity to swing down off his shoulders. Ruby was with Summer in the kitchen, clinging to her sleeve.

Summer was still staring at the table. "The food..."

"We gotta go." Qrow knelt down and tried to draw Ruby into a hug. She shook her head and clung to Summer even tighter.

"No!"

"You need to let go now, sweetheart," Qrow murmured, putting Yang down and kneeling on the tile floor.

"But..."

Yang touched Ruby's sleeve, offering her hand.

"What are they doing?" Summer asked. Something in the other room shattered.

Qrow couldn't look at her. Instead he stared at his shoes and clenched his fists. "She's not real. We've gotta go."

"You'll be late for school..."

Ruby let out a pained whine and latched onto Yang, burying her face in her shoulder. Summer reached out.

In that instant, it was like nothing was wrong—and Yang realized how easy it would be to believe her. To accept the lie if it meant the world would go back to the way it should be, when their family was whole and solid. Before everything tilted on its axis and they had to fill in the empty space she'd left.

"You're not real," Yang told her, dragging the words out and squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn't see the look of betrayal. A hand touched her cheek.

"What's wrong? You're crying..."

 _She can't understand what I'm saying,_ Yang realized distantly. _We're too far off-script for her to cope._

"Qrow," Ruby choked out. "We need to..."

"Yeah." A thunderclap went off in the other room. Qrow slung an arm around each of their shoulders and cast a final, helpless glance at Summer. Then he guided them towards the back door. Yang could see daylight through the window, until it started to crumble and flakes of blue sky and gauzy cloud peeled away like paint. Behind them was only a black void.

"Tai!" Qrow shouted. "Come on!"

"No!"

"I swear to all the gods, Tai, if you ignore all this just to—"

"I can't—" Dad grunted, cutting himself off. There was a crash from the living room. "I can't get away right now! Take the girls and go, I'll catch up!"

"But—" Ruby started to say, but Qrow hoisted the pair of them up onto his shoulders. Yang kicked him, reaching out behind her toward the fight in the living room.

"He'll be okay," Qrow said. "She won't kill him."

And with that, he launched himself at the door. Yang clung to him in sudden terror as the black hole yawned wide. And then they were through.

* * *

She was on the floor next to her bed. Sheets were wrapped around her legs, and her cheek was pressed against the thick Mistralian carpet. Her arm was stretched out, fingers curled into a fist.

Haven.

Yang rolled over, sitting up as best she could with only her left arm. The others were little more than silhouettes. She could hear their harsh breathing. Weiss had a hand over her heart, like she was trying to force it to calm down. Blake had climbed up onto the headboard. Ruby let out a whimper.

On a small table in the corner, the relic of knowledge rested against the wall, glowing innocently. The quiet chattering sounds it made grated in her ears, bringing back flashes—the smell of burning wood; the liquid smoothness of a frozen hand; faces in a photograph as they curled up and blackened.

She went limp, letting her back hit the side of her bed. Someone muttered a curse—probably Weiss.

"Okay," Yang said, after a long moment. "I don't care how important it is, if that happens again I'm punting it off a cliff."


End file.
